Idol
by LePetitPappillon
Summary: His new assistant stood there, a novel the size of a brick in her little hands and an odd smile making up the bright red lips painted in cheap lipstick.
1. Chapter 1

Viral sat in his bathtub, steaming water lapping at his skin and light blond hair in a mess around his crown. Bunched up against the linoleum and sharp teeth gaping.

There was a bottle of expensive wine in his hand, deep in color and half empty. The label was damp, because he was damp, with a heart washed up in misery and golden cat's eyes saturated in boredom.

Viral had just come from his assistant's funeral. She had worked for him a grand part of her life, probably about seventy years. He played witness as time drew wrinkles all over her face, broke down her knees, and pressed a lump into her back. As it took her hair and turned it grey, it eventually slowed her heart down to a stop.

He barely knew her. In fact, he could hardly remember her name. The entire day was kept in a fog, clear memories occasionally jabbing out of it. Like the richly colored mahogany coffin and the little flakes of snow drifting on down from a blanket gone deep grey. The faces of those few humans came too-they shook his hand and thanked him, trying so hard not to stare at his saw-like teeth and enormous hands.

The whole affair was awkward. Like a dance no one really wanted to attend. The assistant didn't have a husband. Not because she had never married. He died last year at ninety-two. Viral remembered this because she came in miserable.

Why hadn't she retired?

An enormous swig was taken from the bottle, some of it spilling onto that pale chin, only to be left in place due to relentless apathy. The water began to cool, and he found himself once again in the grips of the cat woman. She tended to come up whenever Viral was neck deep in melancholy. It was difficult to say if she was a hallucination, or a phantom that truly did come in and out whenever his core sunk deep into his stomach.

She was his imaginary lover. Her hair was long and yellow, joined by two sweet chocolate eyes and a pair of cat ears sitting upon her head. She glittered like gold, dainty and fragile and kind. Thin fingers would brush past the beast man's neck soft-the enormous scar against his chest. The frame of his face.

His lips.

She only arrived at his worst-when the tortured thing was wrought in steaming hot water and ready to give up on all things, when he was as close to dreams as he could be-because those horrific claws would never touch rest.

Viral hadn't slept in eighty years.

But between the tub and the flavor of sweet wine, he came close. At least what would be "close".

And when the water grew cold and the liquor was gone, Viral removed himself from the vat and wrapped his sore body in a towel. The woman disappeared, and his mind was left to the unsettling blackness in his stomach and the putrid thoughts of a tomorrow he never fucking wanted.

A new assistant was coming-one he didn't bother interviewing. In the end, they were all the same. Flawed in one way or another-stretching through the government documents with sticky notes and chicken scratch doodled into the margins.

Viral landed at his desk.

And he addressed his mountain of paper.


	2. Chapter 2

His new assistant stood there, a novel the size of a brick in her little hands and an odd smile making up bright red lips painted in cheap lipstick. But she was trying hard. Her clothes were brand new, and her mad fire colored hair had been forced neatly back into a bun. You could tell it was usually in a mess around her head. Wild and free and without concern, probably like the heart stuck inside her chest.

But today, this chick was nervous. A chick-because she wasn't quite a girl and too young to be a woman. The worry presented itself inside those honey flavored dark brown eyes, bordered by long eyelashes that were probably fake.

Who could blame her? This poor unsuspecting chick, having to face the cruelty of an enormous front door to an even more enormous mansion. The whole building spit out gloom like a factory, with winding corridors and chambers too large for their own good. Where photographs lined the walls in bitter sweet memories, making the estate seem older than it actually was.

It was a haunted museum. There were a few servants to clean the place and a beast man to sit in the center of it and stare down the new comers with a saw-like scowl. His claws tapped on the surface of the polished mahogany desk.

In thought. In a whirlwind. In a half-interested misery.

And they looked at one another. Words bunching up inside throats like vomit. They even had the same kind of burn to them. The new assistant's bile was of course, much worse.

"It's an honor to be here, sir." A set of rainbow colored nails drifted through the loose bits of hair nearly stapled to her forehead.

Viral caught the papers fogging up his desk a moment. "Did you just get those clothes?"

"Yes. I bought them yesterday." Fingers were beginning to ring the cover of that novel, like the claws of a cat kneading a blanket. That face of hers was becoming a bit red. Pigment slowly creeping up on her cheeks while lips worked themselves into a ball.

She really was nervous, like Viral had her strapped down and held a scalpel to her chest. Like he dissected her… took her apart with a single golden eye and left her dead when the mangling got boring.

"You don't have to dress so nicely. I really don't care either way."

"Well…It's a relief to know that."

The fire cackled in the background. It chewed up fresh wood.

"What do you have there?" The beast man shot his attention right to her hands again. "Come closer, please. You're standing too far away."

So the chick followed orders and came nearer. "It's your autobiography, sir. I know you've probably been asked this frequently, but would you mind signing it for me?" The cinderblock sat against the desk, with an unreal amount of care.

It was an older edition-the reason Viral didn't recognize it at first. The spine was worn and broken in three different places, and the pages had yellowed to gold. The versions that fell under his pen now-a-days were always brand new, literally just picked up from a pile at a book store and shoved right under his nose. This always caused an unpleasant ache. These apathetic people—none of them would actually sit down and read all of those pages. Fuck no. They would all go and sell it to someone who valued signed books. Maybe give it to a grandson or a granddaughter to be placed on a bookshelf.

But this book… this book was worn out and read probably more than a dozen times. Carefully leafed through, markings of high lighters in numerous different colors ate up the pages. Tattoos written in the margins in careful handwriting and corners dog eared, for the most important sections.

It was beaten to hell like a holy text.

"Have you read any of my other books?"

"Yes, I have. All of them, actually. But this one is my favorite. I thought I would bring them in through a few weeks' time, if I didn't irritate you." Her words were so damn careful; you'd think she had rehearsed them.

She probably had.

"I don't mind signing books." The spine was severed once again, this time to reveal the back cover. Viral caught a mirror image of himself, lips dressed up in the typical scowl. He hadn't aged one goddamn day. The image printed in black and white had faded, but it was all the same.

Except, now his scowl had grown.

"I write my name five hundred times a day. Whether it's on a government document or the back of a very old book really doesn't matter."

The pen struck beneath the photo.

The signature was allowed to dry.

The epic was returned.

"I'll show you the office. Come with me."

And so, the two walked across the hallway into another enormous room with practically nothing inside. A gaping window made up one of those four walls, its glass filled up with frowning snow clouds. The entire thing had been cleaned to uncomfortable perfection—like the inside of one of those model homes. A clinical clean. There was no life in it. There had never been any life in it.

There were three things in this office: a desk reminiscent of Viral's, a dead fire place, and an empty book shelf on the western wall.

The space was cold. But it looked cold.

"You can decorate this place, if you like. And you're welcome to bring books to place on the book shelf. Do I have to explain how to do this job?"

"No sir. Not at all. I've been doing this quite a while."

"Good." Then a stillness that would kiss the base of your spine. "I'll be going."

And Viral went.


	3. Chapter 3

The chick came in the next day, dressed in a worn out black coat and boots that were beaten to shit. The material of her clothing began to gather into balls, so much so they could even be picked off and tossed right onto the floor.

She also carried a box with her—a huge box probably stuffed to the corners with books and stupid posters and whatever else you might find in a college kid's dorm room.

Everything inside the box soon came out and unfolded about the walls of her office. There was indeed a stupid poster from years ago when someone got the idea to make a movie of what happened in the beginning. Viral had been asked relentless questions by relentless directors just so they could get everything right.

It was a terrible movie.

But then, what did the beast man consider good?

Of course, all of her books began to populate the shelves as well. By the end of the week, the three tiers were pregnant with history books and textbooks addressing numerous subjects, and of course, all the books Viral had ever written. Every single one of them was torn to shreds and violated with a rainbow of high lighters. She even had the special editions that had colored pictures jammed into the center of the book, on expensive paper that showed every last finger print.

This section of the case glowed with the reverence the chick had assigned to it. They had been subjected to the gentle love radiating out of her eyes—read and studied and taken to heart. The material stowed away beneath her ribcage and soaked in obnoxious color.

She stuck a few pictures on her desk too. Frames that held the faces of miscellaneous people and possibly a few friends. Whoever they were, they wore smiles and rosy cheeks, sometimes accompanied by jarring lens flare. Somehow, this made the photos more endearing.

The office, despite all this, had not really changed. It was still too damn big with furniture and things with a person that was too small. This red haired thing—she always looked like she sank right into her desk chair, a gigantic black leather thing that felt unused and stiff, even though it had been sat in for at least a decade.

Viral did replace the furniture. Sometimes.

Despite the frigid atmosphere of the mansion and the office itself, there was still something charming about it. The entire set up radiated with the kind of heart Viral couldn't seem to grasp. There was a lot of admiration for these quirky things. It showed in those honey-brown eyes and glittered right into those faux lashes. This was especially true for the bean bag chair awkwardly stuffed into the corner. Despite it being bright red and a complete eyesore against the expensive flooring, the owner tried to pretend it wasn't there. Maybe her boss would notice it and ask for its removal. But then again, maybe not.

On Friday that week, after the office had slowly been taken over, the chick came in wearing a tank top and black pants that stuck on every part of her legs. But that wasn't what stood out. What _did_ stand out was the beginning of a tattoo decorating her shoulders. It looked like the top branches of a cherry tree in spring, with pink petals pressing into her shoulder blades. Too much of it was covered to be certain.

What the hell had they sent him? This strange chick that smelled like perfume and cigarettes and flower scented deodorant. This strange chick with tattoos and wild red hair and infuriating brown eyes that ate up sugar like a cup of coffee. This strange chick that got her work done on time and hardly had a word for him.

He caught her on a smoke break one day.

She was standing before those towering doors, tobacco in between two lips dyed raunchy, coming out soaked in a kiss. The coat was on. She took a moment to offer him a grin.

"Hello, sir. Is it alright? I'll be back upstairs in a minute."

Viral didn't answer. Instead he sank down onto those steps that introduced the front doors and put his chin into his hand. A sigh came out and shaped a cloud, because it was so damn cold out.

"What's the matter with you?"

You could almost hear a gasp.

"Do you hate cigarettes, sir?"

"No. I mean in general."

A silence rose up between them, a series of brick walls flying up to be a one sided sky scraper.

And she landed next to him, rubbing red ashes into the concrete. "I suppose there are a lot of things wrong with me. But I can't help them. If I tried to fix them, I wouldn't be me anymore. I'd just be someone constantly trying to be someone else."

Another roll sat there, in between her lips. A match struck up some fire and hot red ash was made once more.

"Do you want me to change the way I dress, sir? I can't promise anything high-end, but I'll do better."

"No. Don't bother with that. You're doing your job well. That's all that matters."

Then Viral left her alone with a stomach ache and the rest of her tobacco. He had papers to give her. But they could always be set against her desk, where he usually put them.

The rest of the day passed with a broken limp. Like someone had come by and caught it with a golf club, right in the knee. Guilt sank into blood like potent wine and sunset came with organized papers and a worried young woman. Those neon sweet eyes went to a grey sour and her greasy red mouth tethered itself into a greasy red knot.

But nobody said a damn thing about it, and the chick walked home as Viral stared her down from the window.


	4. Chapter 4

The cat woman had come again, to tear the stability out of his chest and make his eyes water up with salt. Now he sat at his desk, with a bottle of half-full wine, weeping like a child.

The tears were batted at, but due to the texture of the back of his hand, the sorrow was only smeared around. Now his face was lightly soaked in upset with another flood coming.

The chick was there too. She stood before his desk, with doe-eyes crinkled into sympathy and mouth stapled shut. Most of his servants would just leave, see him in that state and go running before they were yelled at for staring. But the chick just stood there, basking in her scent of cigarettes and perfume.

A tissue was pulled from the pocket of her coat, which looked even more worn than usual, and was handed to the one sitting before her.

Then silence shoved knives in between their bones.

"Thank you." Viral tried hard to regain control of his chest. It was sputtering out breath and gasps and low sobs. "Have I been cruel to you? I'm sorry."

"No sir. You have no reason to be sorry. I was just so worried you couldn't stand me. I've been punching myself in the stomach recently-because I constantly wonder if I've gone and done something stupid." Some odd kind of emotion twisted her expression. For a moment, she looked away. "I've been on edge the last week or so. Really. You're my favorite author of all time and if I managed to make you hate me…"

Her fingers gripped the bottom of her coat.

"I wouldn't know what to do with myself." But then, her gaze came right back to him "But who gives a shit about all that, right? You're more upset than I am." A slow pause. "When I'm miserable about something, I find it best to talk about it. I'd be willing to listen if you need an ear, sir."

Then, those lips lathered in red pulled at the edges.

And there it was. Viral could unload his chest and face a few days that weren't dipped in mundane depression. Fuck, he even asked her what her problem was and she didn't even blame him. There was no running at the sight of his tears. No unwarranted judgment. No hatred that forced her pink heart black.

Nope.

Just kindness.

It was an author crush.

The last few drops were wiped from his cheeks. "I don't know your name."

"I'm Poupon, sir."

"Well, Poupon…" The thoughts took a minute, and while they came, his mouth hung a bit. "I think I've come to a point where I just want it to be over now." A quick swig of alcohol, and Viral continued. "When I was younger, and the universe needed saving, I felt so much more…useful. Now all I do is shuffle papers. This isn't what I was made for. And I'd give just about anything, to go and blow some shit up again. To pilot a giant robot. To punch a hole in the universe while yelling some manly nonsense."

For an instant, there was a semblance of a smile across those razor sharp teeth.

"But there's no need for that anymore. And I've been reduced to this. I've told the story. I've written it all down for the history books, I've gone through interview after interview, even after all the others stopped because they were too old to be bothered…"

The clock whispered gently from the wall while the fire whispered back.

"I'm useless now."

Quiet.

"You're not useless, sir." Poupon's voice was firm, but honest. "Your book inspired me to be a better person."

Gold met chocolate and they fought it out.

"Do you ever read your fan mail? I know you're busy, but maybe just take a few minutes every day to see what you're actually doing. Because when you shuffle papers all day, it's easy to start thinking you're not doing shit." Her brows dropped a bit. "And I don't just mean your books either. Since I've been here, I've seen about fifteen thank you letters for things like a fixed sewer system and graffiti removed from monument walls. People appreciate what you're doing, sir."

Seconds ticked by. "If I wasn't here, someone else would take my place."

"So what?"

"_So what?_"

"So what? You _are_ here. And you _are _doing your job. There's no need for 'what if's. You're helping people, even if it seems like a huge waste of time." Poupon adjusted her feet. Fixed her stance and brushed off her coat. "Sir, may I ask what's stopping you from piloting a giant robot? I know Kamina city has grown, but there's still open space around the edges."

"There's no use. It's just a waste of a resource."

Poupon's lips folded a bit. "Perhaps that's the problem, sir."

"The problem?"

"Yes sir. I get the feeling you never do any stupid shit. Any unnecessary shit. You might be too pragmatic for your own good. Fun is supposed to be useless. If it isn't fun, it probably has a use-whatever that may be. No one really goes to the movies unless they enjoy it- mini golfing, driving a go-kart, playing a game. They're all useless in their own right. You don't learn anything. You don't accomplish anything. Hell, you just have fun."

A hand went through that cosmic mess of fire.

"You could even form a hipster band with some kind of edgy name. Like Holiday Pants or Ten Gauge Lover. Maybe even Suicidal Toilet if you wanted to be really obscure." A smile. "It's completely up to you."

"Suicidal Toilet? That's a horrible band name."

"_But that's the point._"

Then there was a slow conversation held in between irises while it all sunk in. Viral tried to imagine himself in a hipster band named Holiday Pants. Or playing mini golf. He hadn't been to the movies in years, and he hadn't bothered with Enki even longer than that. All this time wasted being productive. The summers were a sore spot tailored into an ugly purple bruise.

Logic ruined his stupidity, cooled down his hot blood and turned him boring.

And here he was, weeping in misery- a stoic cocoon he had weaved himself into. Life didn't have to be dry like powder. It didn't have to be saturated in papers and drowned in obligatory phone calls. It could be different.

It could be dumb.

It could be dumb and useless.

And awesome.

"You're right Poupon."

The sun seemed to poke its head from the grey pall sitting in the sky.

"I never do any stupid shit."

"Hey, it's never too late to start."

"No." A claw sat upon his bottom lip. "No it's not."


	5. Chapter 5

The club sank into the base of the vase, bits of porcelain spattered into the grass. The millions of colored bits went everywhere, small fragments with large fragments.

Whenever Viral laid his eyes on a vase irrational animosity seemed to build up in his stomach. Like a volcano boiling into an eruption. It just came up like a tidal wave and swallowed him whole.

Maybe it was because vases never served any real purpose. They just stood there and looked pretty, like a stupid girl. Sometimes they were decorated with useless things. Like feathers or long ornaments that jetted out from the center, or some other stupid shit someone came up with and labeled it creativity. It all just took up space.

And the older and more expensive there were, the more disproportionate his hatred became.

So the golf club sunk another, ensuring that this expensive piece of porcelain shit would never sit in some rich twat's house.

It was probably about five o' clock in the morning, as pointed fragments landed into the grass. Viral's toes were naked. Little claws pointing into the earth, which was fresh and covered in a light layer of snow.

Somehow, the relentless blanket of grey had been shaken off and moved away, leaving room for a sweet orange burst of sunrise. As the light peaked over the hills, mountains and came gently into the sky line; pink and lavender took over the black in dramatic brush strokes. It was a painting, with one half of the canvas presenting night and the other the new day. A sour end and a new beginning.

Another vase shattered.

Viral breathed out a sigh, which appeared like a cloud before his lips and nose. The cold poked at his flesh with cruel fingers. Flesh that was dressed in an old bathrobe he was too lazy to replace. The discomfort brought him comfort. Because he was so used to comfort and warmth, it had brought him to sleepy boredom. There were no challenges inside that mansion. No harsh weather to make his skin crawl. No cold sheets to greet him when he lied in bed, sitting awake and gawking at the ceiling. No broken windows to place a pile of snow on the floor.

Nothing to do but sign and read. Sign and read. Day in. Day out.

But this feeling-this gut wrenching chill, with its bitter fingers shoved in between his ribs-this was feeling. Viral was alive, no matter how dead he felt. It caused his lungs to feel. His veins to freeze. His skin to bunch into goose bumps which produced spine tingling agony.

This was like candy.

Did others enjoy the cold this way? Did they go outside during winter without coats or hats or mittens? To them, was this stab of bitter a reminder of their working lungs and half frozen blood?

Would Poupon approve of this?

It was pretty goddamn stupid.

Sometimes she came to work wearing flip flops. With her toes soaked in neon rainbow and a light blush due to the chill. These little details almost never sank into his brain. But Poupon was a strange chick. It was difficult not to stare at her sometimes, especially when she showed up all wrapped in a heavy coat, but had two practically naked legs attached to half-naked feet.

Maybe she wanted to show off her nail polish. And who could blame her? What's the point of rainbows if they're shoved into socks and shoes and fiscally responsible foot wear?

It's fucking boring.

Glass spit everywhere as Kamina City began to wake up. The sky scrapers wore a kind of light to them as all those people filed into their offices, into their restaurants and schools and libraries. The city was beginning to breathe again, with the automobiles running through it like blood and lights that flicked on like eyes flickering open. The noise came back too. The noisy breaths of a creature running forward that spit fire and broke down walls.

Viral couldn't hear the noise. He couldn't see the bustle of the forming crowds or the life they brought to the still buildings. But it was all there. He used to be a part of it.

After the last vases were broken, Viral went inside. Everyone in his home was off today, including him. Perhaps he would waste time. Sit on the couch and devour an entire tub of strawberry ice cream. Sit in the tub and have some kind of hallucination fever dream that would bring tears prickling into his eyes.

Or maybe he would call Simon. They hadn't spoken in a while.


	6. Chapter 6

The next week came, sour like bad fruit. And with it came Poupon, still dressed up in that ancient coat with her lips drowning in red. Her lashes still seemed too long, and those chocolate flavored eyes were still too sweet.

Viral came into her office as soon as she sat down. A stack of papers sat in her arms, but before they made it to her desk, they were set upon the floor. The beast man had to stop for a moment to stare at her bookcase. To stare at her whole office, actually.

There was more love radiating from the walls. Like a smell that pushed its way from one corner of the room into all four. It was a hostile takeover of Miss Poupon's pink heart. The posters seemed more vibrant. The bean bag chair-even friendlier. The books on the shelf comfortable, like neighbors that became good friends after moving in.

Before, she looked far too small in this office. Like a bright orange spot on an old and classical painting. But now, that painting had been made modern with the most obnoxious of colors. Like neon yellow brighter than the sun and flashing hot pink. Electric blue that burned your fucking eyes out.

Now viral was a drop of grey on her canvas. This too, seemed to stab holes between his ribs.

But he remained, that enormous claw taking down one of the volumes, sunny in age, while a pen sketched out a signature on the back cover. Where his picture sat. Where his scowl sat.

The ink dried before the next one got pulled out. And Poupon watched, a joy floating up to her chest and filling her lungs. Those rainbow nails worked themselves against each other, because the owner was unsure if she should spout out a thank you or just sit there with her mouth shut.

Her lips pursed when Viral landed inside her bean bag.

"I can see why you put this here." A soft exhale came out between saws. "It's nice, if you just want to sit around and space out."

The chick turned in her chair and omitted a smile. It took her a second to say anything. "Thank you for signing my books, sir. I appreciate it."

"It's nothing."

Then there was an empty space that drew Poupon's eyes from her boss and onto the documents left near her bookshelf. She couldn't move. Her limbs were turned to stone before the pretty golden eye of the man taking up her beanbag. That was strange too. It was like a flower with vivid rose petals and a center made up of tan. But Poupon didn't belong in an office chair either.

Her attention shifted as Viral's mouth opened and no sound came out.

"If you had the money I had, what would you do with it?" The question belonged to her, but Viral's mind was steps outside the door, drooling at one of the framed photographs in the hallway.

"Well…" The wheels cranked in between her ears. "Probably something irresponsible. I'd want to buy something in an enormous amount…Like a whole bucket of sushi or twenty mattresses so I could make an elaborate fort." Gaze conversed with the ceiling. "Outside of that, I don't know. I'd probably buy myself an awesome sports car and an outrageous wardrobe. With pink vinyl boots and a bright orange fur coat."

Their breaths filled in the empty space quiet left.

"I'd give some of it to charity too. I know what it's like to be broke on your ass…But once I did that, I'd do more irresponsible things, probably. If you give me a day or two, I could think up more of them."

Those lips twisted up.

"Actually-I've always wanted to have a food fight. Just go buy a mass amount of junk food and start tossing it back and forth with one of my stupid friends. Make a huge damn mess and have someone else clean it up. Have you ever done anything like that, sir?"

"No, Poupon. I can't say that I have…Although, I do have a collection of sports cars. But I didn't purchase them all at once." Viral's shoulder blades pressed into the chair just a little deeper. "A bucket of sushi?"

"Yes, sir. Sushi is my favorite food. If I could afford it, I'd probably eat it every single day. At least until I got sick of it. Probably after that too, just because I could." The chick stood up and brushed a stray bit of fire behind her ear. "Should I get those papers over there?"

"If you'd like to."

So Poupon took a short trip across the room while Viral observed. Today, her coat was unbuttoned along the front, revealing a striped white and orange shirt with a pair of nylons speckled with pink flowers. The upper half was long and worn out.

She had probably owned it for years. It hung like sagging skin on an old woman's face and its colors faded like black hair to grey.

The papers came into contact with the business portion of Poupon's desk, next to her pens and sticky notes and high-lighters.

"Why do you dress that way?"

"Is it unprofessional?" The papers shuffled around a bit as Poupon's voice escaped her lips. And her brows crinkled. "I can change it."

"No. I don't care about that. You can wear what you want. It's just that most of your clothing looks worn."

"It is worn." Two piles were made and the assistant turned to face the one in the corner. "I used my pay check last week to pay for food and the rent I owed my land lady. Anything else was out of the question." Seconds dropped onto the floor as yellow and red nails skinned that bottom lip. "I'm financially challenged- and I don't say that so you'll pity me. It's just the truth. But now that I finally have something more than minimum wage, I'll be able to buy new clothing soon."

To that, Viral said nothing. Those cat's eyes merely looked onward, at nothing in particular. His mouth tingled with curiosity and questions that were probably tender and sore and inappropriate. So those lips stayed closed.

Usually Viral would spit out the contents of his mind without bothering to think. Like a stupid kid with a malicious subtext. But somehow, this chick with all of those goddamn tattoos and clothing worn to threads wore a kind of nobility. Poupon said it herself; she didn't want pity.

Pity was for pussy-ass bitches.

"I think I'm jealous of you."

The color washed right the fuck out of her face and filled her stomach. Viral saw her go pale. If it wasn't for the chair, she'd probably be on the floor.

The words and confusion gathered inside her throat to the point of strangulation. But Poupon couldn't do it. Puking out anything at that point would basically be taking a stab to the chest. And it was all self-inflicted.

But then the stillness became too fat and too awkward.

So speech was birthed prematurely.

"Sir, why would you be jealous of me?"

"Do I really have to explain?" The beanbag squealed beneath him. Fake leather crying. "I thought you would know me better than that."

"Sir, I'd be tinkled pink to know you better. But for now-you're the only one who knows how you feel. Even all the books I've read can't tell me that." The sympathy was overwhelming. "That being said, you don't have to explain it. I'm just perplexed that anyone as awesome as you would be jealous of a dork like me."

It's because you're a dork.

Dork.

"I'm not awesome, Poupon. You should get that nonsense out of your head."

"Well, Sir. I have to disagree whole-heartedly. Anyone who sits in that bean bag chair has awesomeness bestowed upon them, if they weren't already awesome before. So really-at this point in time-it's physically impossible for you not to be awesome."

Their gazes had it out while the chick tried not to grin.

"That bean bag chair has been passed down through many generations, and it's rumored that it was originally blessed by Kamina himself."

"We didn't have beanbag chairs back then." Viral stood up and stretched. "That's twice in a matter of a minute you've lied to me. It's obvious that I need to get back to work before you corrupt me any further."

"Well…" Red paint pursed and coiled. "Thank you for letting me corrupt you as much as I could. I appreciate the opportunity. And thank you for signing my books."

"You make it sound like it's difficult. Have a nice day at work."

"Thank you, sir."

The rest of that day was drowned in misspelled words.


	7. Chapter 7

The complaints were stacking up like bricks to build a tower. They sat on Viral's desk, staring him down with stiff upper lips and ice cold eyes. They were mean and bitter, with their finely typed small print and occasional misspelled word or two. With long sentences and big, fancy words that seemed to go on forever.

Viral had written shorter books.

All of this was gathering up in violent storm. Like dry ice in a sealed container. Or like shoving a hurricane into a water glass. It tore up the room and left those bored, golden eyes to wander to the walls. The elderly pictures that came into brutal staring contests. Photographs of Simon and Rossiu and Yoko and all those other important people, immortalized in history books. His cleaver, shined to glitter and hung up near that fire place, where it would go unused for an eternity. The clock stranded at the other side of the room. The flames themselves. All cackling at him and his piles of gripes.

Gripe after gripe after gripe.

About the city park. About the poor plumbing in a certain neighborhood. About the police. About the government. About nothing at all. Bitching for the sake of bitching. Because they could. Because maybe it was fun to make a wealthy person's life hell for a couple minutes.

Who could blame them?

Viral had been at the bottom once too. But no one gave him a voice.

The clock softly spit out ticks. They found places within his ears and slowly brought the thought from his overworked mind. Viral's head was entirely empty of everything. Until the focus bled from his face and left him a cripple.

This work was harsh.

In fact, it was total bullshit.

So the beast man found himself once more in Poupon's office. Lips gaping and teeth clenched up on stupid. Then the words came like drunken vomit.

"I don't want to work today."

Then, he stood there. Like a dumb kid that just said to his mother, "I'm sick" and expected her to come up with a solution. Hold out her dainty hands and except throw-up on her soft palms. Viral never looked more clueless. Like an animal about to get smacked to death with the grill of car.

"Well…" The bitching mess of paper got organized. From one cluster fuck into a different, smaller cluster fuck. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't…" The mental retardation of immortality made his jaw work like broken bits. Wheels with holes poked in them and springs with dents.

"Do you want to get the fuck out of this house?"

"I want to get the fuck out of this house."

Another cluster fuck was straightened out, as if it actually deserved to be cared about. Like those nonsensical letters spelled anything out. "Then you should get the fuck out of this house, sir."

Viral's feet stood heavily in place, while the clock in her office whispered dirty secrets to him. Conscious dripped out of his nose and mouth before anything more could be said. The next words were anvils.

"You need to come with me."

Seconds.

"You need to get the fuck out of my house."

"You want me to get the fuck out of your house?"

"With me. We need to get the fuck out of my house."

Lips crunched up with joy, like an empty pop can flattened by fat-ass bliss. But it was hidden as soon as it floated to the surface. Locked up in her ribcage while the bright pink in her cheeks got swallowed whole. It still came through between her lashes. Stars twinkling in a black sky. It couldn't all be stuffed away-this bashful happiness. It was too large for a container.

Poupon stood up. The papers were shuffled around again, for the last time, and the two made heavy eye contact. "Well, what do you want to do, sir?"

"You said something about sushi."

"I did." Hands smoothed over that coat, as though running over it would somehow take away the scars. "But Sir, we should do what you want to do. After all, I won't be getting the fuck out of your house by my own means. You pick." Her face was swelling up with red again. Red that seemed to match the shade of her lips and even drown them out. "It wouldn't be right, if I choose."

"Poupon, I don't know how to have fun."

"Of course you do, Sir. You just haven't been."

"Let's get sushi Poupon."

Who was she to argue?

The two found themselves moving down corridors that lead absolutely no where. They all just clicked together, with rooms in between them and the occasional wide open space of a living room, or a kitchen, or something along those lines. There wasn't much that wasn't practical. No indoor swimming pools or bowling alleys or a chamber filled with arcade games. The whole of Viral's home consisted of hallways and guest rooms and the occasional wide-open space full of wasted potential. Where an indoor pool or arcade was _meant_ to go, but instead was filled with a couch and a bookshelf and negative space.

Perhaps the most amusing place in the whole mansion was the garage, which held a total of ten cars and twelve parking spaces, all in stunning condition. There was an automobile from every decade. From the very beginning of this civilization, to the newest and best model, fresh off the line. Most of them were silver in color, some red and obnoxious, others white and blue and colored practically. Most of them looked as though they had been driven once. From wherever they were purchased to here.

But near the garage door was a more used model. Another silver car with a little bit of dust and a couple of dents here and there. It was still well taken care of. The paint job shined. The windows were kept clean. Any semblance of dust was banished from the exterior. But this was the car Viral actually drove.

The strangest thing had to be the utter lack of pride for these objects. Viral didn't point to any of them and have some long story to tell. There were no details that needed to be made clear. The beast man barely seemed to glance at any of them. These were just things he had acquired over time. Nothing to show off. Nothing to make a fuss over. Nothing to be unabashedly proud of. These automobiles were just there because they were there.

An incidental collection.

But Poupon was still impressed, as any sane person would be. Those sugar coded brown eyes hung onto every detail of every machine, like pornography. She looked at their shine, their model, their tires, their fucking exhaust pipes.

Anything that could be looked at.

And she did this, standing in one place. Arms poised politely at her sides as though the two were inside an art museum and nothing could be touched. Even placing one grubby, destitute finger on one of these pieces was a crime. And she drooled. Between lip slack while her gaze went everywhere.

Then Viral opened the passenger's side door and Poupon got into the car with a soft thank you.

How small she looked too. All coiled up in that black leather seat, next to high quality windows and power-locking doors. This wasn't the car you'd expect to find Poupon in, even if she wasn't sitting in the driver's seat. This chick was a constant pedestrian and if not, she rode the bus.

Viral watched her walk home every night from his office window, wrapped with cold and goose bumps and some kind of happy.

The engine roared awake.

And they left.

The drive went silently for the first several minutes, with Viral's attention divided between the road and the tiny creature sitting in the next seat over. Her body was still twisted up. Coiled into an awkward position that displayed respect but no personality. Her pale flesh was flushed in red with the hot blood boiling beneath her face. Gaze pointed out too, into the city so they wouldn't have to look at one another.

She'd pop.

Nails were picked at the entire time.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Pink. But I love all the colors." The tension seemed to build up between them just a little more, electricity running through hot cables. Still, they tried to push themselves through it. "What's your favorite color, sir?"

"I don't think I necessarily have one." His gaze flicked from the road to Poupon to the road again. "I should probably have an answer ready, if I'm going to ask. But I don't."

"It's alright, sir. I'm not requiring you to have a favorite color. Favorite colors are for squares anyway." That happy pink face fogged up the window. "Although, I thought you might say silver."

"Wouldn't that make me a square?"

Poupon thought a long moment. "Do you want to be a square?"

"Sure. I'll be a square."

"Then liking the color silver makes you a square. But being cool is for squares anyway. Who needs the pressure?" A brief pause. "I think you're cool because you're a square, Sir. Most cool people are."

The quiet pushed against the doors of the automobile. Poupon bit the sides of her mouth and kicked in her stomach. Once again, those sweet brown chocolates pressed against the glass, pretending to look out into the city. Pretending to observe the people passing by on the sidewalks and lowest levels of the tallest buildings.

Her forehead wanted to ram itself against the glass until thin lines of blood broke out against her brow. To affectively knock the stupid out of her head.

"Thank you, Poupon." A gaping moment sat between them, stepping lightly onto their feet and driving nails into their guts. "What are you so worried about? I know I'm a square."

A sigh took full compactly of her lungs. "You're not a square, Sir. I'm the fucking square." Nails clawed at themselves even more furiously. "I have no goddamn clue-how to act around you. It's like I said before, I feel like I'm always doing something completely stupid. And after a week or so, you're just going to throw me out because I've managed to irritate the shit out of you."

That face, so possessed with gut-wrenching confusion, gave itself to the beast man at the wheel. Full with dented brows and a helpless pout and sad lashes that were too fucking long.

"You're probably sick of getting your ass kissed. And who the hell wouldn't be in your place? But-" Her tongue tripped over words that made her expression crinkle. "But I really can't help but look up to you."

Poupon's voice was strong, but she was forced to shove her eyes right back out the window. To a society that didn't get it and never would. All of it-every last emotion that had been building up like raging magma-kicked cracks into her ribcage. Her heart and lungs were drowning and there wasn't a damn thing that could be done. Poupon was heavy like lead and just as thick.

"I never thought I'd get to meet you. Really…But to have met you and be your assistant and to be sitting _in your car_…" Folding lips ate up air. "I really hope you don't think I'm some kind of psycho. It's just-it's important to understand this is pretty much what I've always wanted. And it's hard…It's hard as shit to get what you want. Because now I have to convince you I'm not crazy."

Finger prints connected with lipstick.

"I'm sorry, Sir." She could hardly say more. "You shouldn't have to deal with this nonsense. I shouldn't be such a pain in the ass."

For a minute, Viral drove, letting it all build. Like the father who just watched his daughter spill her guts out and wasn't quite sure what to say. Part of it was flattery, but another part was confusion.

The sound came out softer than it usually was.

"You're not a pain in the ass."

The chick listened as though there would be a quiz on every last fragment that came from Viral's mouth.

"I don't think you're crazy either. Granted, I don't understand why you like me so much, but that doesn't make you insane. I mean, you're weird. And you're definitely a dork for reading all of those books. But that's not bad."

Seconds went on slowly, staring down the both of them before they passed. Because they wanted to know who was going to say what.

"It's good you're a dork. I'm sick of people who pretended to read them-saw some segment on a news show somewhere and regurgitated it to me like it's from the text. Or half listened in history class, and read a couple of paragraphs from an important chapter. I can tell they didn't read anything I wrote."

A minute was given to safety. To the other cars and the asphalt.

"But you're not bull-shitting me. I've seen very few books as worn as yours. So you don't have to beat yourself up so badly. If you really were a pain in my ass, you wouldn't be sitting in my car."

Sharp glass gold became unexpectedly soft. And the knives in his mouth came to a reserved grin. It was the sort of look that could uproot any heart, no matter how deep the veins ran.

"Thank you, Sir." Relief was immediate, like morphine.

Then they pulled into a parking space.


	8. Chapter 8

There she was again, that cat woman standing over Viral in the bathtub. Not a shred of clothing touching her. All of it was entirely naked without a place to hide. An orange peeled of its skin.

Her face steamed red. Embarrassed and utterly admirable. This strange cat goddess, so bashful and so beautiful. There was no reason for shame. Every section of her was appealing, to the soft canvas of her hips to that creamy neckline. And those honey brown eyes drowning in enormous lashes. They were like two sweet dates, made for desert.

She sat beside Viral, filling in the spaces of that enormous and empty tub, hallowed out by the clear steaming water and the color of porcelain white. The bright lights around the room only contributed, taking a crème color to bleach and leaving the whole space so goddamn sterile.

The only beautiful thing in this room was her.

Viral sent a few of those long fingers through that golden blond hair, stands sparkling in between claws and wrapping gently around the whole of his hand. Then, Viral kissed her. Lips carefully hooked to lips while bodies hooked to bodies and the whole of reality sank into hot pink.

After what seemed like weeks, ice cold blood turned warm and veins frozen over managed to function. His heart was back. His lungs. That stomach full of ache. Now, Viral's cheeks were red too. An appealing rose that made his pale flesh glow.

Their chests were pressing together; heart to heart while her round little stomach completed the empty spaces in the gaunt mess that was his body. Her fingers left trails of heat against those wild scars and their tongues tied together, taste buds fighting it out.

Every part of her was soft.

So Viral ate her alive.

They were stitched together, flesh adhering through red thread and blood flavored like sugar.

And when he opened his eyes again, the cat woman was gone, leaving him with an empty bottle of champagne and a stomach collapsing right into hell. It was all too bright again; shadows swallowed up by neon white that blurred into salt and sorrow.

The water drained out.

And Viral was left shattered and naked and damp at the bottom of that porcelain bucket. His heart broke again, but he didn't bother with the pieces. They cut his hands up whenever he touched them.


	9. Chapter 9

Poupon walked into Viral's office that morning, with a bowl of something or other in her hands, to find her boss a corpse against the floor. He was sprawled out upon the expensive red carpet before his desk, eyes void like black holes and mouth hanging stupid. The saws behind his lips were pressing together softly, as though he was speaking tiny words with no meaning.

Poupon put the bowl upon his desk and crash landed next to him. Her wild red fire made contact with his fucked up blond. They knotted together between them while gaze bumped into gaze.

His eyes were blood shot red, bordered by sticky lashes and Poupon's eyes were quick shot sympathetic. They stared at one another a good few moments before voice got tossed up into the air.

"Good morning, Sir."

Slow blinks and a sad breath. A breath that gave up and shriveled half way out of his esophagus. It was launched again but collapsed right back into failure. And somehow, the resolve was gathered to speak.

"Good morning, Poupon. What did you put on my desk?"

"It's rice pudding, Sir." Her body adjusted, rolling onto her hip. "I want to thank you for the sushi. That's not something I get to eat very often, and when I do, it's usually the cheap stuff from the grocery store." That glowing cheek sank into an arm a moment. "You should put it in your mouth. It's pretty tasty."

"Put it in my mouth?"

"Yes, Sir. You should put my pudding into your mouth." Poupon almost laughed. For a moment, her lips pulled into a short grin. But then it crunched like folding paper, while she kicked herself. "I'm sorry. That's inappropriate-"

"Don't apologize."

The clock ticked out the seconds, counting each one carefully so everyone could tell how many went by.

"I'm sorry, Poupon."

Whispering in between the second hand and the fire place.

"Sir, you have no reason to be sorry. You have every right to lie on your floor and be upset about whatever is upsetting you. You don't owe me a damn thing." The skinny thing shot up, and disappeared a minute. Viral watched the door as her beaten heels clicked around. Feet went into her office, and she dug through her purse, ripping something from its insides and coming back. The pudding was stolen from that responsible mahogany slave-driver and Poupon was back on the floor, with a spoon.

"Whenever I'm upset about something, I usually try to get fat. So you should put this pudding in your mouth. Hopefully, you'll feel better."

Viral was a corpse for a moment. It brought the heart out of Poupon's chest and shoved it on display. But with that ache came a sea of determination. This chick would make him feel better if she had to break his fucking arm. Resistance wasn't getting him anywhere. Resistance was just tossing time out the window.

So the beast man sat his ass up.

And he put the pudding into his mouth.

"Did you make this, Poupon?"

"Yes, sir." Her face crinkled into concern while her nails picked at her nails- lips scabbed up and bloody too. Probably due to the jitters Viral caused inside her stomach.

Her soul got shoved into these grains of rice. Into the sugar and into the bowl. Into the flames that brought the mixture to a boil. Into the spoon he stole from her.

"You didn't have to thank me. I mean-You didn't have to make thank you pudding." Viral swallowed another bite. "But it is good. So don't look so concerned."

"I'm only half concerned about the pudding-" her thumb and forefinger went to her bottom lip, to uproot the scabs and loose skin.

"I hope the other half of your concern isn't for me." Another creator made inside the bowl. Now the spoonfuls were addicting. "I'm fine Poupon. At least, I usually am. Even if I'm not, there's really no use in worrying. It's not like I can die of a broken heart."

Poupon's fingerprints were bloody.

"_Goddamn it!_ Don't do that! Why are you picking your lips? You'll waste energy concerning yourself with my stupid problems but you're willing to make yourself bleed?"

More pudding sat on his tongue.

"I'll buy you chap stick! _Just stop_."

Immediately, Poupon sat on her hands and sucked in her bottom lip, trying to lap up the blood flowing from the sweet pain. Chocolate irises looked to the floor in a brand of red hot shame. Because she had angered him.

"I'm sorry, Sir. You're right. It's an awful habit."

Viral responded with a noisy huff. He tossed his gaze into the fire place while his cheeks filled up red. "I'm not right-" A puff that could blow up an entire hot air balloon. "Don't let me yell at you that way."

Lips foiled up. "You know, you don't have to be such a dick about it." They looked right at one another. But then Poupon threw another foot into her chest.

"No! I am being a dick about it!"

Silence.

"You're going to let me treat you that way? Poupon, you made me fucking thank you pudding and you're going to let me get off with being an ungrateful dick?"

"Well- it's not like I'm picking your lips." Her gaze came rolling back around, into his. It didn't look angry or mean. Just somewhat hurt. "I'm doing a good job, you know. I don't need this shit."

"What happened to your red lipstick?"

"It melted in pocket, Sir. I had to throw it away." Brows gave beneath pressure and Poupon was back to picking her nails. "I'm sorry I called you a dick. You're not."

"You can't take that back."

Her dry mouth folded into a nervous little line that built all the way from her ribcage and up to her tongue. The chick turned into a clam, closed up and too petrified to speak. But Viral pried her open.

"Listen, kid. You can't take it back. And you shouldn't."

Those big brown eyes were sleeping in the beginning of tears. But they didn't burst. Poupon just sat there and regarded her boss, with her teeth biting the sides of her mouth.

"I don't know how to treat people. So defend yourself. Punch back, for fuck's sake." A soft sigh. "Did you use that lipstick to keep your lips moist?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright then. Thank you for the pudding, and for peeling me off the floor." Viral stood up, joints popping in symphony. "I'll get you another spoon." The man landed in that comfortable office chair.

"Thank you, sir." The Poupon ran away to another shift full of document hell and guilt that popped her in the mouth. Viral would never need to tear her up. She already did that herself, like a piece of trash with empty words littering it.


	10. Chapter 10

The lipstick was set upon her desk with a clap. It was bright red and came in a pretty golden tube. The expensive shit. The good shit.

Poupon's lips hung for a moment, with her light pink flesh torn to bits with craters covered by loose scabs. They pressed together in a conflict, just like her eye brows rung themselves out.

"You're not a dick." Her attention once again gravitated to the handsome thing placed before her. Her hands were shy, like they weren't meant to touch it. Doing so would leave a destitute smudge against something so beautiful. "I'm not sure if I can accept this."

"Shut up, Poupon."

The blood exploded into her face, cheeks turning right into lamps.

Viral crossed his arms, the fabric of that fine suit crinkling a bit. "Take it."

"Thank you, Sir." A thumb and index finger carefully took the lipstick, and placed it beneath curious eyes. "This is nice." Then, she was back to staring down Viral, who stared her down back.

"I picked it out myself. Well, sort of. I had to ask the woman working in the make-up department a few awkward questions."

"You went outside all by yourself? I'm proud."

Poupon removed the shell and that little red tip came peeking out from behind its collar. It truly was a rich and prideful color. Like the pigmentation of hot blood. There was a certain shine there too. Shimmer with an attitude and the dye of emotion. It wasn't cheap, and the beast man stood there, watching as Poupon inspected his work. Viral probably hovered before that wall of lipstick, interrupting every last tube until he found the one that screamed Poupon.

He did a damn good job.

"Thank you, Sir. This is beautiful. I'll feel bad wearing it, because it's so special…" The words were a bit mangled and dumbstruck, coming out of a mouth that really didn't know what to say. Her heart was red against her cheeks. Redder than the rogue she put on that morning and redder than the lipstick in her hand.

The broadcast from her ribcage screamed inside her ears.

"Please wear it."

Then, in a mere fragment of a second, there was a new sort of feeling splayed upon Viral's face. It wasn't his anger. Or his boredom. Or the sorrow that came and went. What was there was something like how Poupon was at that moment. The blush and the plea and the sugar caught between her lashes.

It tore her fucking heart out.

"Of course. I'd be honored."

"Thank you."

Then Viral lingered there a moment as Poupon stowed away the little golden tube in her pants pocket, trying to come up with something to say. But the sentences came like knots into his throat, sticking like a gag before the vomit.

"What do you want to do next, Poupon?"

"Next?" Pure confusion.

"I need to get the fuck out of this house."

"Well…" Her fingers tried to pinch her lips, but stopped and folded to her lap. "Have you been to the movies in a while?" Her mouth twisted into joy. "Or, you could get your first tattoo, if you're for something more dangerous. I'm not sure, Sir. You can do whatever the hell you want, so why not do whatever the hell you want?"

"I don't know what the hell I want. I want whatever the hell you want. So pick something."

Poupon nodded her head and narrowed her eyes, casting a pointed finger to her boss. "Then I want to go to the movies. Because I don't know if you're ready to steal shopping carts or do donuts in that sports car of yours. But don't worry. By the time I'm done with you, you're going to have tattoos up and down your arms and bright red hair."

Saws poked into a smile. "Good. But until then, we'll go to the movies. Get to work, and come see me when your shift ends."

So the hours peeled slowly from the clock. Minute by minute and second by second, falling from the day like a tree dropping leaves. Each and every one could be counted out. Sorted by different memories and feeling and kicks to the stomach.

Viral tended to keep and eye on her, watching as she left her office for a cigarette break. Watching as she took her pink polka-dotted lunchbox outside. Watching as she removed and put back on that beaten ass coat thirty different times. Watching as she took a moment to put on that brand new lipstick, which popped like a punch in the mouth. Watching as she came in the evening with her pile of paper and blush bunching up onto her cheeks-thick like pancake batter-and waited politely for him to speak.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes sir."

"Let's go then."

So there they went, traveling through corridors riddled with empty rooms and sad photographs and stale carpet. They came to the garage, with all of those cars. Again, Poupon's eye caught each and every one of the, until she was dragged into the passenger's seat and forced to be so small again.

This time though, Poupon appeared a little less helpless. A little more comfortable, as though it occurred to her that she wasn't an enormous pain. It set Viral at ease, because she was at ease. So he began to speak.

"I'm thinking of calling Simon."

The information sat between her ears a moment, digesting. "Well, sir. I think you should. You two are friends, aren't you?"

"Yes. You could call us that."

Poupon smoothed out her coat, finger tapping out thoughts on a big black button, just about ready to fall from worn threads. "Maybe next he should come to the movies with us. Or maybe you two should go to the movies. Something along those lines. You know."

"Do you want to meet him?"

"Of course I do. It would be an honor to meet Simon the Digger." A sweet little gap as Poupon sucked in happy red lips. "But you're my favorite. That's why I'm not freaking out."

"How can I be your favorite? I'm not anyone's favorite."

"Nonsense."

Street lights passed either of them through the windows while quiet filled the car.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Why are you my favorite?" She was picking her nails again. "It's simple. You're so interesting. Everything that's happened to you…I don't know. You're just my favorite; I guess I can't explain. I mean-Why does anyone like anything?" Then Poupon threw a foot directly into her middle.

She almost began tearing at her lips, but stopped.

"Poupon , you have to stop worrying so much."

"I can't help it. I always feel like I'm saying something completely fucking stupid. But then again, you haven't thrown me out of your car yet."

Viral gave half his attention to the road and the other half to the chick curling up in the next seat. And the quiet tore a chasm between them, like a tyrant building up a wall. Hell, Viral almost began picking at _his_ lips.

"It was stupidity that made the humans great, you know. So if anything, you should be proud of your stupidity-which isn't really stupidity in your case. You just need to stop being so damn shy." Gold flicked over to that face framed by red hair. "You're going to give yourself a heart attack, if you keep it up."

"You're the only one so shy around, Sir."

"I know."

The road hummed beneath them, accompanied by the sea of energy from active buildings and cars and street lights. Poupon squeaked against the leather seat as she adjusted herself, bones popping.

"Where do you live, Poupon?"

"Are you taking me home?"

"No. I'm just curious."

The worried hurt faded out of her expression like a towel rung dry. "Well, I actually live near the park with the Kamina statue inside it…There's a cluster of small apartments around there."

"That's a far walk from where I live."

"It's not so bad. Sometimes I take the bus."

"There's snow on the ground." Viral found his forehead to be frowning, a big ugly crease in a once pristine piece of paper.

"Well…" Poupon's forehead frowned too. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Stop being sorry. It's not your fault. I'm concerned about your health. Between the heart attacks and strep throat, you're at a pretty big risk."

Laughter. "Well thanks, Dad. But I think I'll be alright." Poupon gave her counterpart a bit of her sugar, with so much sweetness displayed so blatantly. "You're nice, Viral. Really."

"Thank you, Poupon."

They came to movies, not long after that, picking a film and choosing seats and occasionally chattering in between previews. And when it actually started-some kind of action comedy-either caught their eyes switching from the screen to one another. Sometimes, in that dim lighting their gazes met only to look immediately away. Poupon's cheeks held their typical rose, like saccharine lights glowing straight neon. And she really did look beautiful in the theater. Her mad red lips shined-and those porcelain doll eyelashes looked all the more delicate.

Were they really fake?

Viral didn't end up paying much attention to the film. And neither did Poupon.


	11. Chapter 11

Viral called Simon and Simon agreed to visit, leaving a day in between the phone conversation the get-together itself. So Viral set up. Lawn chairs out on the snow covered grass and a batch of iced tea prepared. It was what the two did every time Simon came to visit; sit in that expansive back yard and watch the city they built- sip iced tea and talk trash.

Fortunately, there wasn't much cleaning to be done. There never was. Viral was organized enough to pick up his shit, and so much of the house never even got acknowledged. They were just a bunch of hallways and empty rooms and maudlin memories left in piles upon the walls, like a goddamn museum. With the dull colors and boring rich-guy obligatory carpets. But no vases.

Viral had smashed all of those.

If there were vases, they would be dusty and dried out as the rest of the house. The potential of the place was freeze dried and stuffed in the back of the cupboard.

Simon came the next day at noon.

Time had torn wrinkled into his face. It turned his hair a dull shade of the rich bluish-black it used to be and made those strong eyes tired. It took his back and bent an arch into it. Made gravity cruel to his skin and muscles.

Every time Viral saw those features on him, it brought a pain to his stomach. Like a punch to the throat. Looking at those beautiful wrinkles and grey hair just put him even deeper inside his snow globe, sitting on society's dusty shelf. But he bore a smile and cast a young claw onto Simon's shoulder and they walked deeper into the mansion.

"I don't know if you want to sit outside. It's cold, but if you do, I set up the lawn chairs and made some iced tea."

Simon's cane stopped upon the floor a moment while those blue eyes came up to the ceiling. "I suppose I do. It wouldn't be right, to come here and not sit outside." Then those feet pressed on ahead, with the determination stowed in the marrow of his bones. "Besides, if you made iced tea already, we really don't have a choice."

Simon had a kind of quiver to him-where his hands shook like earthquakes and knees threatened to collapse. But in those light blue eyes was the Simon that never changed. Because the kind of crazy that says a big 'fuck you' to physics never comes off. Like a tattoo.

It kept Viral from freaking the hell out. Whenever he saw those strong hands quivering like leaves it always sank into his stomach. But Death couldn't put a finger on him. Not even close.

Viral landed in his lawn chair and Simon landed in his lawn chair and the ice tea landed between them and they watched as the snow clouds sat over the city. Despite being such a big and noisy place, Kamina City could be genuinely beautiful. The towers came probing all the way into the clouds, covered in panel after panel glowing the colors of the sunrise and sunset. The elderly portions of it had their charm too-with an architecture that took you back years when the whole damn thing was getting started. Then there was the pompous, cocky noise of it all. Horns shouting at other horns and the roar of conversation flooding the streets. This city was like a wild animal, snarling and devouring and growing into a super powered monster that could swallow the world. But it was intelligent enough to stray from violence.

The blizzard fluttered down from the city's furrowed brows and made the snow globe a little less melancholy.

Viral looked to Simon.

"So how have you been?"

"I've been pretty damn good. I see you haven't changed a bit. But that's hardly a surprise." Simon took a sip of iced tea, the cubes shifting around inside the glass, in comfort. "When's the last time I saw you anyway?"

"Months ago, I think." The snow seemed to slow-just a bit. "I'm sorry I haven't called much, Simon. I'd say I've been busy, but that's only half true. I have plenty of time to lie around." That comfortable discomfort came riding back into Viral's nerves, and the breath was back inside his lungs. "You wouldn't want to talk to me anyway. I guess I've been pretty depressed lately. But I've been getting better."

"Oh? And what's changed your mind?" There was a good-natured smile etched onto his lips.

"Nothing, really."

Then a laughter accompanied by a sip of tea.

"Don't you lie to me, Viral. We've known one another too long for bullshit and at my age, I hardly have the time. Really-you seem different today. What's gotten rid of that sour taste you put in my mouth?"

The flakes came down, landing on their clothing and throwing grey to pollute the blue sky. The sun was gone, hiding behind its reflection inside a big ugly storm cloud. But somehow, there was still so much silver in the sky.

Viral let the cold make his hand numb around the glass before he drank from it. Then he answered. "This thing named Poupon."

"What is a Poupon?"

"It's a crazy chick with tattoos and red hair and an unhealthy obsession."

"Sounds like you like her."

Viral's nails skinned his lips a minute.

"Well, it's good you're making friends. You spend too much time cooped up in this stuffy mansion of yours. How old is she anyway?"

"Mid twenties."

"She's practically a baby." The rest of the tea was sucked down and another glass was poured. "But I think that's a good thing. That's an age to be insane, but have the responsibility not to be too insane. She'll be good for you. You never do crazy shit."

Viral's mouth forced his whole face to grin. Simon responded with mirth. And the two watched as the white kept on bleaching the city.

"You don't think it's wrong, do you?"

"No." The ice spoke from the tea. "No. I don't think so. You can be close with whoever you like. Who the hell cares what society thinks anyway?" Simon shot a glance to his counterpart, who was possessed by looking into those mangled storm clouds. "You deserve to have friends. And one of these days, everyone will be younger than you are. Just enjoy it. That's really all I can say."

A piece of loose skin ended on the beast man's finger print. It was flicked to the ground like a flake.

"You're right, Simon."

"Of course I'm right. You should invite her to have tea with us one day. I'd like to meet her."

A brief laughter. "She said you should come to the movies with us one day, because she said she'd like to meet you."

Then Simon laughed. "Well, there you go. She obviously has excellent taste." Then the joy settled within his chest with a short hum. "Don't worry about it-if she makes you happy. Because, when it's all said and done-that's all that matters. No point in doing the 'normal' thing if it just makes you miserable." Sharp blue stones kindly stabbed him through. "Besides, I support you getting the fuck out of this house."

"She says I should get the fuck out of this house too."

"Good."

And Simon closed his eyes, relaxing against the pink and white plastic of that ancient lawn chair. His arms crossed over his stomach, with fingers interlocking. Viral did the same, a kind of content rolling over him the way the cold did.

They sat and drank their iced tea.


	12. Chapter 12

She was in the hallway this time, so Viral knew he was in deep. Blond hair twinkling like stardust framed honey chocolate eyes and swollen red lips. The cat woman's stomach popped out too, a little hill with stretch marks.

Viral stood there before her, not certain of what to do. She always looked so fragile, a porcelain doll that would fall apart inside those strong claws. They ruined everything they touched. But the cat woman drew closer, unashamed of her nudity but with cheeks so rosy and furtive. This creature was a goddess and she tended to glow.

Then they were standing across from one another, within that dull hallway that faded to black behind them, and she took his hand. His enormous, monstrous hand. And it was placed directly onto her stomach. There was an attempt to pull it away, before her flesh began to tear and bleed-but those lily white fingers were stronger than anyone ever imagined. His hand was glued to her.

There was so much life inside her stomach-another heart beat with little limps that elbowed at the side of its cage. It was impatient-just like him. The cart woman pressed his fingers into certain places, into a knee of an elbow or maybe even a hand. And a pulse ran through the entire thing-a tidal wave that brought the heart beat in and the heart beat back out again.

Then their eyes met up in the middle of it all. She mouthed out words, but every last one of them fell deaf onto the floor. But she didn't try again. Those crimson lips just folded up at the edges with so much sweetness packed beneath her eyebrows. This face was so familiar. Like a painting he had seen a thousand times before.

His heart broke inside his ribs. And the hand that didn't sit upon her stomach rushed to the edge of her face, a thumb against her cheek while the others got tangled up in gold.

The words he spoke fell dead too. In fact, they could barely make it past his teeth. They just disintegrated onto his taste buds-falling apart like soggy newspaper. But it wouldn't matter anyway. There was really nothing he could say to her.

So they smashed their mouths together, her round little stomach pressing right into his flat and boney middle. Her hands took his shoulder blades, and his hands took hers. And their tongues hooked together, knots made between giddy teeth and torn lips.

The whole world faded away too. Melting like hot ice cream. All the colors streaked down the sides of walls and built up between their feet, rainbow shit that flooded the entire floor. And it was wonderful-this total focus on one other person that was all consuming and cruel. They would swallow one another whole while the world exploded behind them. And they'd be entirely intent not giving a fuck.

But the world didn't explode.

It just faded into badly lit reality, with Viral in a bathtub of stale water, an empty bottle of vodka in his hand and bathroom lights bright like the damn sun. They ate up the corners and made his eyes sore.

So the fluid came running down the drain and the beast man dragged himself out of the bucket.


	13. Chapter 13

Poupon came in that morning smelling of cigarettes and perfume and the outside, a bowl of pudding in each hand with the bag slung around her shoulders. A huff-puff followed her around as well, slamming out of her lungs and lingering.

The two bowls were set upon Viral's desk.

"Why two?"

"The lipstick." She took a moment to capture breath, sucking it in and gnawing at it. "How are you feeling today? You look well."

"Do I?" His back pressed into the chair, leading to a recline. "I suppose I am doing well. I've been relaxing. And I invited Simon over. Just like you suggested."

"Did he decide to come?"

"Yes, and we sat in our lawn chairs and drank iced tea." Viral picked a little skin from his lips. "We talked about you too."

"I hope you didn't say anything terrible." Poupon shifted on her feet a little bit, leaning just to the left. Today, those colors weren't as shy. But they hadn't gone away either. They were still there, reddening her cheeks and nose-but then, she had just gotten in from the cold. Little flakes littered her beaten-ass overcoat like a light rain.

"Of course not. Simon thinks you're a good influence. He's happy you're getting me out of the house." There was a short pause as Viral moved his gaze directly into hers. "You know, he said he wanted to meet you. Maybe next time you can sit with us."

The pigmentation from her face crashed downward into the carpet. And her bottom lip went free falling with it-not even bothering with a damn parachute. "Simon-_The_ Simon-wants to meet me and you had to invite him over during the _weekend?_"

Viral laughed. "I'm sorry, Poupon. I thought it would have been easier for all parties involved, since I tend to take breaks on weekends." A smile made of razor blades. "Next time I really will invite you."

Then the blood came right back up, from her feet to her forehead so fast, the beast man was nervous she might collapse. But Poupon still stood, radiating like a space heater. "Does he truly want to meet me? I couldn't take your time together away unless that's really true."

"Of course it's true. Simon doesn't lie. And if he does, it's horribly obvious. I think he's happy I've made a friend…" But then Viral paused. It was too late to take it back. Words don't come with bungee cords. Only paper wings. Poupon was his friend-at least, she was definitely close. But could he truly admit that without ruining it? Those enormous and deadly claws broke everything they touched. Porcelain to white powdered dust and bricks to puzzle pieces.

It was alright though-if only for the reaction that passed from her brain to her heart and back into her eyes. Those shiny red lips went a jar, even though they pushed themselves back together about a thousand times in the course of a second. Baby doll lashes blinked in rapid fire, like he had just smacked her in the mouth with she wasn't ready for, like "You're fired" or, "I'm pregnant." Poupon's face was so iron hot-steam could roll right out of her ears like pollution from a factory.

But in the end, she managed to speak. "I'm glad he's glad, Sir."

A small sigh came from between Viral's now bloodied mouth. "Poupon, what am I going to do with you?" Gold flicked against the wall. "You're not going to have a heart attack, are you?"

"I just might, actually." She gulped; her knees were weak. "It's an honor that you consider me your friend. To a dork like me, this is like winning a new car or the lottery."

"You are a dork. Most people would choose those things over being friends with me." They looked at one another a solid moment. "Look, will you be able to work today if I ask you not to call me Sir anymore? I see you sometimes." His finger pointed right at her. "You start to space out and day dream whenever something good happens-you're probably thinking about you and me frolicking through a field of flowers or some crap. I can tell."

Red cheeks curled up into absolute stupid.

"I thought so."

"Just for the record sir, I would love to frolic with you in a field of flowers. I would also love to be there the first time you get a tattoo. But I know it's too much for right now. We'll work into that." And her whole expression was tickled pink. Top lip ate bottom lip and eyes glowed like hard sunshine. "Do you want to frolic in a field of flowers? I'll show you how."

"Oh. Do I not look like I know how to frolic? It's rude of you to assume I don't."

Laughter came up in the shape of a hurricane, and the woman tried desperately to swallow it. "I don't assume anything. You can do whatever you set your mind to, Sir. I have the utmost confidence in you."

Viral's jaw worked into a smile. "Well, maybe we can go frolic through a field of flowers, if you don't think I'm ready for a junk food fight or a tattoo. But until then, you should get out of my office. You're a walking distraction. Not in a bad way. But it's the truth."

"You're a distraction too, Sir."

"Well, take your papers and get out." A pile was dropped onto the face of that desk from a drawer. "And do a good job like you normally do."

With a nod, Poupon took the papers and ran away, leaving those huge Tupperware bowls of pudding with her boss.

The rest of the day passed in side-long glances and faces filled up with color. Viral had been correct. That little secretary of his seemed to be in a daze, drifting through the halls occasionally for a cigarette break or a quick snack. But then, he was the same way too. His chin sat in the pad of that enormous paw, and his eyes wondered to the sometimes closed, sometimes open door of Poupon's office. When he wasn't interrogating the threshold across from his own, those golden eyes were deep into the pudding. His mind went to a thousand places at once and nowhere at all.

Not a damn thing got done.

That red-haired lunatic never left him alone, despite the fact she rarely came into the office across from hers. She didn't need to move. This Poupon thing was an infection that probably didn't have a cure. It was frustrating, but Viral sure as hell didn't complain.

Then, when the sun went sinking beneath the horizon and the sky turned purple and pink and orange, Viral moved into Poupon's space. He sat in her bean bag chair and leaned against the wall. His body curled up like a child's and those shoulders relaxed.

"I'll take you home, Poupon."

The chick said nothing. That hand was too busy writing out important notes. But a few seconds later, she stopped, slapping that particular document into the mess of documents. Then she met his eyes.

"Sir, you are going to give me a heart attack."

"Heart attack or not, I don't want you to freeze to death. It's cold."

Those sweet lips curled up like a scroll. "You're too kind to me." Poupon spun around in her chair, making a whole revolution before they faced one another. "I'll have to make you pudding again. So, if you do take me home, we'll have to go to the grocery store."

"You don't need to make me pudding. And you can stop calling me Sir." Those legs stretched and popped while eyes clouded up. Full of all sorts of things. Full of confusion and tattoos and red hair and lips. "Well, get your things together. You're off the clock."

She seemed to shrink inside her ugly overcoat. "I was going to stay a little longer. To finish all of these." The 'Sir' almost extended past the last word, but Poupon ate it up whole. It even choked her a bit on the way down like a bite made too big or a huge amount of cigarette smoke.

"You can do that tomorrow. Come on. We both don't have to work our asses off at all hours of the day. You actually need sleep."

"Sir-"

"Poupon, stop working."

So she did and all of those things were packed up in a flurry. Her box of cigarettes. Her happy pink polka-dotted lunch box. The excess papers that were packaged into a spring green folder. Gloves were put on-worn out covers that used to be a dark grey. And that was it. And Poupon followed Viral into the garage, stuffing herself into that huge space-so she wouldn't be a nuisance.

She would never fit into that black leather seat. No matter how he fattened her up.

But he did take a moment to examine her-like a specimen pinned against a rubber mat. His brows pressed together, because Poupon was the sort of chick he didn't know what to do with. It caused her mouth to fold together-bottom lip beneath top lip. Her confusion came into those eyes like black coffee filling up a lonesome cup. And her brows knitted too.

"Have I done something wrong?"

"No, Poupon. Just chill out."

"Can I smoke a cigarette?" Then came the foot walloping her middle. "No-" Puff. "That's a stupid fucking question."

"Go ahead." The engine roared to life, lights coming on and cool air blowing through the vents. "I don't care about this car. It needs more personality to it-it's too damn clean."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm hardly unsure."

So Poupon nodded and fetched the pack from the base of her bag. Then that sweet cloud of disposed nicotine took up the air, making hot ash at the tip of the roll. A word wasn't said, but the silence wasn't a cold awful black between them either. She just told him where to go until they came to a beaten building on the other side of town. It held ten stories, lights poking through some windows while others were pitch black and censored by curtains. Every single one of them was small. Like a step above a hotel room. The rooms were probably a quarter of the size of Viral's garage itself.

And Poupon stayed, gripping her things like someone would attempt to steal them the moment those worn-ass boots touched the pavement. Her cigarette was short now.

"Can I pick you tomorrow morning?"

"You don't have to do that." Her face turned into concern. "Look, you can't spoil me-I'll turn into a total bitch. Start dressing normally and all that."

"Poupon you can't just become a bitch. You have to go through bitch training or something. Some women are just born bitches; they don't need to work at it. But you? No. You'd be a terrible bitch. I can't even imagine you trying."

"Yeah, well fuck you." Then she grinned. "I can be a bitch if I want to."

"I'd say you're more of a chick. And fuck you too. Get out of my car."

Poupon laughed.

"I mean it. Get out. Go get some rest. I'll be back here tomorrow at five-forty five."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm hardly unsure."

"I know, but-" A long draw on oxygen and the ashes were flicked out the window. "Listen, if it's a pain in the ass -don't come down here. It's not your responsibility to pick me up, or even drop me off. So call me up if you change your mind, because I don't mind walking, Really." Poupon sucked on her cigarette until she extinguished it on one of the golden claps adorning her purse. "And you need rest too…Just take it easy. I'll see you tomorrow."

A noise came in when the door opened.

"I'll see you, Poupon."

Then she got out, coat a mess around her thighs, and waved as soon as that little threshold closed again. Vial waited until that chick was through the front door and drove away slow.


	14. Chapter 14

Viral came every morning for the rest of that week, picking up an angered Poupon and placing her in the seat next to his. And she would sit, with her cheeks puffed out and a fuck-you in her eyes and a cigarette in her mouth, watching Viral and the sun as it bathed the city in young twilight.

There were always cars out. But at the same time in the morning, there weren't as many. The whole city was just waking up. Springing out of the sheets and stretching out its limbs. It was beautiful too, without the yell of society and the commotion that rose into the sky like pollution. It was silent, and the silence was tranquil.

Viral would take her home as well, but the same sort of beauty simply didn't come when night rolled in and punched out the sun.

Then the weekend hit, and the beast man found himself within a department store, facing down a million sorts of winter coats.

This was a conscious decision. The entire ride over was spent in a haze, with drunk eyes and a far-away look that stretched on forever. But there he was, surrounded by women and fragrance and price tags tall as skyscrapers, staring down clothing on a rack. It didn't play nice either. Each coat screamed at him, fighting for attention over their neighbors. Plaid and fur and leather, but none really hollered correctly. They all said words like, 'Putain' and 'Papillon', but not 'Poupon'. The unsatisfied screams of garments gone unresolved were _close_. Some were just off by syllables and she would undoubtedly be impressed with whatever he chose. But that wasn't the point. This garment needed to match. Not blue and purple. Not blue and green. But blue and blue.

Or pink and pink.

Whatever.

And after a few minutes of interrogation-of shake downs and sleeve inspections and thumb prints stuck onto shiny buttons, Viral found the perfect mess-standing there in neon pink and orange that could burn your fucking eyes out. The buttons were white-hot with red stitches connecting them to the fabric. The pattern that snaked its way around consisted of smacks of fiery orange-like a paintbrush came by and just splattered the damn thing-radiating against the pink in a love hate relationship that told everyone's sight to eat a dick.

He plucked it right off the rack.

They wrapped it up nicely, inside a yellow plastic bag with big, obnoxious hand writing on its visage. And Viral went home.

The coat was removed from the plastic-to be placed in some kind of gift bag or folded and wrapped up in paper. But then, as though those thumbs traced over that odd fabric, a weird kind of sick sat inside his throat.

It was too much.

The lipstick, the rides there and back, the movies, the sushi. Everything. It was too much-and she asked him not to. Her eyes begged and her lips kept from pleading-stopping and scrunching up.

Poupon would be angry.

So the coat was tucked away-back into the bag and into a closet. His heart wore a little bit of shame. Arteries pumped with dumb adrenaline from the pure stupid that made up his face. It had been a while-since this brand of retardation cut him up and broke him apart, like scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

But somehow, his lungs were swollen with air and life and conflict.

So Viral decided to watch television.


	15. Chapter 15

It was Sunday and Viral just finished watching a documentary about how society had changed from Simon's leadership to the present. He didn't need to watch it. For fuck's sake-he had lived and breathed every minute the program had him look at. But maybe that was why he watched it. Sat his ass on the couch and put his palm to work beneath his chin. So he could see how right they were.

Before they mentioned him-because you can't have a documentary on that sort of thing without mentioning Viral-the dwindling population of beast men in Kamina city was brought up. How, within the next ten years there would only be one left. Then the documentary had its own section on the blond creature himself. Shoving him right up there on the dusty pedestal and taking a good, hard look. Like no one had done that before.

Like you couldn't fucking _read_ about it.

A lot of them had died in prison.

For the first time in a while, Viral's stomach seemed to collapse into itself. Pain shook the walls and brought bile slamming into his esophagus. The whole of him was disgust-building and building. A bucket brimming with putrid green sewage and collective vomit.

This was no secret to any of them. Viral had been to prison. Half of all the inmates seemed to be beast men-with their sharp teeth and their plucked feathers and their enormous arms and legs in shackles. And on the streets today, there were even less of them-less in the parks. Less in the automobiles that circulated around this city like blood cells. Less in the dully lit windows of run down apartments. Less writing him letters. Less wondering where the hell their sympathy was.

It was a truth Viral didn't like to address. That enormous, ugly painting hanging right in the dining room-staring down everyone near it while they tried to swallow the food it soured. It was the elephant that sat in the corner of his mind. And it was so fucking unfair.

Sometimes, he couldn't bear to remember Lord Genome. That was the most difficult part of writing the books and autobiographies and sitting through _all_ of those interviews. The immortality came up. Those humans were obsessed with it-like he was wearing an outfit made of solid gold and diamonds. It was a conversation piece.

_He_ was the conversation piece.

And how could he-_that fucker?_ How could he make an immortal creature, but not give _one_ of them the ability to have children? It was a sick practical joke and Viral was the punch line.

So he drowned his sorrow in liquor that would never get him drunk and steaming bathwater. So he could day-dream to the point of hallucination. So he could day dream the loneliness away, for short minutes of relief.

Half the bottle was gone when she arrived. This time, her stomach was ripe to nine months and her flesh was the victim of a thousand tattoos. The cat woman sat next to him, at the rim of the tub, and her pretty arm reached in, with a dainty hand scratched up by nail polish, easing at the side of that worn face. Pushing the hair away so gold could meet chocolate. Cocoa soaked in sugar and flavored to the absolutely saccharine.

They filled up with pity. The ugly, artificial sugar that gave you cancer. His organs twisted up, seeing her that way. With that look on her face. Because he was a pain in the ass. Viral couldn't deny it. Running from the truth was like trying to get away from air. Or attempting to hide from the sky. Or refusing to drink water.

Viral just wasn't that stupid. He never could be.

So the cat woman kissed his cheek leaving a big red mark where her mouth made the stamp. Those pretty, deep brown eyes wouldn't go away from him. They glued themselves directly against his cheeks and nose and mouth-until every drop of his pain was hers. Until all of it was eaten away and he was left with the comfortable numbness the apathy _almost_ brought.

Then, she kissed him. Right on the mouth. Now that the ice cold had been sucked away, the woman was ready to allow him the fire hot. Like emptying out a trashcan and filling it full of sweet wine. Cleaning away foggy miasma for a sweet-ass summer day complete with a bright sun.

Viral wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her in. He ate her alive. Her frothy red lips fought him back. They pushed and argued and sucked. Until his lips were crimson too-between blood and pigment. And no one could tell whose lips were whose.

When she was gone, and the wine bottle was empty, because he really had swallowed her whole, Viral wept. Viral wept more vehemently than he had months ago when these sore spots were the sorest. The bruise against his heart nearly bled. And all his soft pants nearly collapsed into themselves. All the hair line fractures broke, leaving him a shattered mess of dumb flesh and two glassy eyes-peaking out through tangled blond hair.

It was sincerely difficult this time-to get up. The defeats were stacking up into watchtowers. Watchtowers that shot bullets into his knees every time his feet were planted firmly to the ground. It hurt like a bitch. It hurt like a bitch and it left scars against scars. Viral couldn't get enough of them.

Somehow, he got out of the tub and collapsed onto his bed, to take a break before they shot him down again.


	16. Chapter 16

Poupon looked in Viral's office. She looked inside hers. She looked in the hallways and the hollowed out rooms filled up with phantoms and dust. She looked in the cold garage, where her breath could be spotted escaping her throat, and she finally found him inside the bedroom.

Viral was a mess against the neatly done sheets. His hair had dried into a bird's nest of knots and his lips were picked clean and bloody. The only thing that kept him from nudity was the worn blue bathrobe that covered only about half of his thighs and left all his scars visible.

Poupon's lips curled up. This was soft pornography she wasn't supposed to see. But Viral didn't put his chest away. He didn't press his knees together to stop her from seeing something she shouldn't. He just lied there, like a frozen corpse in the dead of a snow storm.

She set the thank you pudding on his night stand.

Golden cat's eyes rolled over.

"Sir, is it alright that I'm here?"

At first, there was only a silence. A big long thing that went on forever. It stretched and stretched and stretched until Viral snapped awake. "I didn't pick you up."

"No, but that's alright." She landed in the edge of the bed, making waves across the mattress. Then her elbows pressed onto her knees and her gaze beat the shit out of the wall. "I made chocolate pudding this time. I think I bought all of the rice-pudding mix they had at the store. I also brought you some of this-" Those little hands went digging into that enormous purse and pulled out a tube of chap stick.

It was placed shyly into that wide-open claw. Her fingers even lingered a bit-so curious but too embarrassed to stay.

"You've picked up one of my bad habits. I figured it was only fair, like paying for a vase you broke or something. It should make your lips feel better." A pause while brows scrunched, awkward like folding chairs. Her mouth hung for a minute before voice rang through. Teeth clenched on the side of her cheek. "Are you alright, Sir?"

"You don't need to call me Sir anymore."

"I know."

Once again, silence leaked in like a ship cracking under pressure. Viral could hear her soft breath and she could hear his. But those lungs were more like huge engines, roaring to life. So those mugs of cocoa-those sad, sad eyes-poked at his chest. At those huge feet tipped with claws and at those darkened hands, bloated like balloons.

And she waited.

"No. I'm not alright. Sometimes this whole immortality thing wears me down. I've been a train wreck lately, if you haven't noticed." A sigh came out-hot and fleeting like steam. For a few lapsing seconds, Viral locked down his eyes. "And you should be angry with me, Poupon. You've probably seen the worst of this bullshit." Huff. "How long did you wait this morning-before you left?"

"Only about ten minutes. I thought you might be running late, or well-maybe something like this happened. As long as you weren't pissed at me for being a little late, I didn't think it would be a big deal." Her voice shrunk in volume. "You're usually pretty nice about those sorts of things."

"I'm still sorry." Bones cracked, but Viral didn't move. "I thought I had more time. Don't go thinking I forgot about you." A soft breath in between syllables. Like he was desperately trying to dispel this depression. Like it was poison gas filling up his lungs and heart and ribcage in general, up to the goddamn cartilage. "Have you ever gotten so miserable you just didn't feel like moving, and all of a sudden, it's seven in the morning and you have no fucking idea where yesterday went? It feels like it's been two hours. Not twelve."

Poupon's face was littered with sympathy and her mouth sucked into itself. It always did this when she had something to say-but the words were like hair in a drain. Clogged up and confused.

"Can I ask what's got you feeling this way?"

Now it was Viral's turn for a sip of drain cleaner.

"I just want a family." It came out like throwing up a stone. But more was coming. That was just the first snow flake to a whole avalanche. "Maybe it's stupid. I mean-most men aren't supposed to think about that kind of thing. You don't see them in baby stores, looking all longingly at the cribs put on display or the walls and walls of toys and diapers…But I'd give anything to have a reason to go get those things. To pick out the littlest room in this huge fucking mansion and deck it out with pink and blue. Put pictures on the wall of family friends and have cute stuffed animals in a pile against the wall…"

Viral's throat began to weigh heavy. Because he was removing anvils from his heart and throwing them out of his mouth. And goddamn-they had sat there so long. Old furniture rank with dust because it was too fucking heavy to move. But it had been so long. It had been years of an eternity when he never spoke of this shit to anyone. Who would want to hear it?

"Maybe it's easy to look at me and see someone who would be a horrible father. I don't know. But I would be so damn loyal, and I'd do anything for my children. Really. I've never been more serious."

He blinked to catch the hot salt. It made his blond lashes wet. "And accepting the fact that it's never going to happen-it's just the shit I have to live with everyday. And usually, I can deal. Distract myself long enough with papers and television. But sometimes…" A gulp. "Sometimes it builds up like a blizzard and numbs my arms and legs. Puts me into this state. Maybe it's hard to understand; you're so young. But I can't do a thing to stop it."

Poupon threatened to spit out a boulder herself. Even from paralysis on the bed, Viral could sense it. Pushing up past the boiling point and making the block inside her esophagus turn to liquid magma.

"I was pregnant once."

The bile was swallowed that chased it.

"It's not like I got rid of it or anything. I planned on having it as soon as I found out. I figured I might give it up for adoption, or find a nice couple that couldn't have kids. Fuck- maybe I'd even try to raise it myself. But I miscarried around three months. Probably about two and half, to be more accurate."

Poupon was tugging at her lips again. Uprooting bright red scabs and making flakes that fell like snow onto the carpet. Viral sat up-in the center of this blood red snow storm. It would have been disrespectful to lie down and pretend his problems trumped hers.

So that messy blond hair was pushed past ears and Viral listened.

"I really do get it-having days when you can't move. My mom found out-when I got terribly sick after it happened. I lost a lot of blood, and it ended up tearing an air hole in my stomach. She rushed me right on down to the doctor's and I just spit out the truth."

The silence hung open. "She was pissed-probably because it was the same thing that happened to her. But she didn't miscarry." Poupon sucked up a breath. "I remember she threatened to ground me-like I wasn't eighteen already. To take everything away because I couldn't be trusted. So I told her she could go fuck herself and left home the same night. Fuck-if I didn't do all the things I had always wanted to do. I got a tattoo and I walked around the whole city-I even got an apartment in the 'scary' side of town where she told me I could never go."

The spoken ellipses came back.

Poupon smoothed out her ancient coat.

"It hurt like hell. But I didn't bother with going back. I had to prove to myself that I could do it. That I wasn't some pussy-ass teenager that went running back whenever shit got hard. Besides, I was getting too old to live at home anymore. It's hard not to think that it didn't come at the right time. And-"

A sigh came out between lips that hung onto words. Trying to shape them like bending up a wire hanger into an ornament. It wasn't working well, and those hands were sore and bitten by the wire. But it still worked in the end.

So Poupon went on talking.

"And the fact that she gave me no compassion. I was so terrified. I wasn't sure if I would bleed to death or get some kind of strange blood-poising or whatever crazy shit can happen. And it's not like I wanted to be pregnant-just for the sake of making her upset. I didn't need to be screamed at like a goddamn animal. I needed fucking support."

Puff. Fake cigarette smoke.

"But I guess my point is that I do understand. I've had entire weeks like the day you're having. So I can't sit here and be angry-act all high and mighty like you're _supposed_ to drive me around. Of course not. I just hope you feel better."

Viral did not have a reply to make. What the hell do you say to that?

Gee! I hope I feel better too.

Cool story, bro.

Nope. The beast man couldn't really say shit. So he sat there in uneasy stillness, trying to absorb everything his secretary had told him and how many other questions it all brought up-and all of them were rude. To ask even one of them was to take the heart she held out in her palms and stomp a mud-hole in it with those too-big feet.

So he got out of bed for the first time since yesterday, and he landed next to her. They looked at one another. Brown eyes drowning in vulnerability and acidic emotion meeting gold that suffered from the same shit with less reason.

Then Viral wrapped his arms around her before he could help it. Before his brain kicked into gear and sent a fist right through his stomach. It was no half-assed embrace either. Those strong arms-clad in ugly blue fleece-stole every last part of her. They pushed their cheeks together and their chests together and their minds into hot-pink rogue insanity.

And her arms-cad in ugly black rags-stole very last part of him too. Dainty fingers stroked right on through that tangled cluster fuck of gold and she breathed him in. Like chamomile tea.

They held one another like friends held one another. Gorgeous and hideous in tattered clothes and lips shredded to scratching posts.


	17. Chapter 17

Poupon got in the car that morning, the cold air moving right in with her. Her cheeks were pink and her lips looked frost-bitten, the immediate cure being a quick shot of lipstick and a smile to shatter the ice.

"Good morning." The chick took a moment to shiver, like an animal shaking off the water after a bath. It was violent and it moved through her quick, but those honey-brown eyes didn't become any less relentless. Those lash swamped pools just ate Viral up like quick sand.

"Good morning, Poupon." Viral stared out the windshield a moment. A thought struck like lightning. A falling star that broke his forehead clean open. "Let's do something fun today." He took a minute to put on the chap stick Poupon had given him. Because looking at her lips, his felt chapped too. "You said something a while ago about a fast food right."

"I did. But are you sure you can handle that? I mean-it's so useless and irresponsible and a total waste of money." A wicked sort of twist fucked her mouth. "But hey. I'm down. You're the boss, Boss."

"Can _you _handle it Poupon? Do you think you can belt me across the face with a double bacon cheeseburger?"

Her face clenched. This was something that had gone untouched inside her mind-probably because it wrote this event off as something that would never happen. Viral was so damn serious-the stern parent that just busted out laughing. But Poupon got herself to answer. "No. I really don't think I could. But I could belt you in the chest or the hip or even the back of your knees-well. Maybe not, actually. If I knocked you over like that I'd want to off myself." Her bun of fire red touched to the back of the seat. They hadn't moved yet. "You'll be gentle with me, won't you? I bet you could throw something as fast as this car can drive. And how dumb would that be? Telling everyone I know that I really did a black eye from a bacon cheeseburger? They'd laugh my ass right out of town."

Viral's tongue clicked at the back of his throat. "Well, I'll make sure to be careful. Because you're right. I am pretty tough."

"I wouldn't pick a fight with you."

"I don't think you'd pick a fight with anyone." The gear was put into drive. "I finished all my work last night-so we could do nothing of value today. So don't worry about falling behind. It's all taken care of." His enormous foot released the break, and the tires rolled in anticipation-like they would on a showy car like that. Tough rubber chewing up asphalt and puking it right back out again.

"That was nice of you." Her heart was pushing through her teeth and filled her mouth up. It was a bite too big that took her tongue and pressed cheek to cheek. "You know-you're a real bastard for being so nice like that. Putting me in debt so bad, I can't do a damn thing. I'm poor, you know. And thank you pudding only goes so far."

"Poupon, you don't owe me a goddamn thing."

"Yeah-except that I do." Brows crunched up like crinkled paper. She started to pick her lips again. "But I appreciate it."

"Good. That's all I want."

And the two went on forward, going to the nearest burger joint through a series of smooth turns and sunrise drenched buildings. Again, the chick was mesmerized. Between the canvas like sky surrounding them and the heart shock piece of hot mess at her side, the poor chick couldn't breathe. Nails dug under nails and teeth made sores on the insides of her cheeks. Flesh to bubble gum flavored like blood. There was too much going on between those ears-because once again, she was smashing in the walls of her stomach and putting broken feet on ice.

Viral studied her. It wasn't scrutiny. How this chick with bright red hair and flesh drown in tattoos could hide like this-wrapping herself up in a shell like a turtle. She never looked comfortable in that seat-it was two sizes too big and she was two sizes too small.

But then they came to the drive through and Viral ordered fifty double cheeseburgers and thirty orders of fries.

How many?

Fifty double cheeseburgers and thirty orders of fries.

_Fifty double cheeseburgers and thirty orders of fries? _

Yes. That's correct.

This isn't a joke, is it?

Absolutely not.

You'll have to wait about an hour or so. No one's ordered that many before.

That's fine. We'll come back later.

As this whole process went on, Poupon's lips shriveled even more, just from the pure wonderment at what the hell they were doing. Viral was dead fucking serious. Not even a stray giggle or an exposure of every fine row of those pearly white saws. This was the kind of shit you see on those TV shows-when a group of frat boy douche bags actually do have a fast food fight; god forbid they actually try to eat it all.

But Viral paid and they took a place in the parking lot.

"Come on. Let's go kill some time for an hour, sitting here is just stupid."

"Of course. Whatever you want." The sir was almost inclusive.

Like most blocks in Kamina City, this parking lot was rife with other restaurants and all sorts of things to do. There was a coffee shop right next door, as well as a drug store complete with a pharmacy, another fast food joint that served another kind of greasy heart attack, a beauty school, a dry cleaner's, and a tax service building. Like everything else, all of those had a suburban sheen to them. A shine that didn't get its jaw broken with clouds of dust and pollution, with plenty of flowers planted near the sidewalks and trash bins scattered at every available corner. The windows stole the beauty right out of the sky and wore it like gang colors. This was the part of the city people really gave a shit about- that people were proud of.

Poupon drank it all up like liquid candy. Because her side was somewhat sick and wounded and walked around with bandages and broken bones. It wore its pollution like gang colors too, with constant sirens seeping into the walls and the broken teeth of rooftops lining every street. It was ugly, but it had its pride. The sort of pride that spat 'fuck all those rich cunts'. The sort of pride that walked around like a gangster and stuck a gun into the waist band of its holy jeans.

It was the sort of pride that was scary as shit.

How things had changed.

"Do you want some breakfast, Poupon?"

A laugh poked into the cool morning air, born with a foggy breath. "Sure. But let me pay for it." A cigarette was pulled from her pocket. "You just spent a small fortune on all of that. I'd feel bad."

"Alright. But don't make me any pudding. I'll call this even."

So they walked into the coffee shop, bought some bagels along with a cup of steaming black Joe and a cola from the refrigerator sitting in the corner of the restaurant. Seats were taken- a small table edged against the window. The whole place seemed to be painfully quiet, besides the grinding of coffee beans in the background and the occasional spit of words from one employee to another. Through it, Viral and Poupon looked at one another with lips bunched. But the silence was comfortable. Tranquil.

Poupon drank down her soda.

"Well, I'm glad you wanted to do this. As far as things of no value go, this is probably one of the best." Her eyes hung onto the window sill, and she looked so sweet- with those cheeks lit like lanterns and her hands sitting on her lap. The whole of her was a contented sigh. "Can I ask you something?"

Attention rolled right into eye contact.

"Why are you asking?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm just being stupid, but-" Rainbow painted nails played with the bottle cap sitting on the table. "Are we ever going to fly Enki?"

Now that one was a shock. Golden eyes widened and that veil of golden blond became slightly displaced. Like a tiny seizure running through his blood. And Poupon caught it; of course she did. But she didn't say shit. The quiet between the smell of coffee and the light chatter wasn't a response.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Quit apologizing."

"It's rude of me to assume I can just ask something like that-"

"I gave you permission to."

The background noise moved right into the foreground.

"I would wonder the same thing-and you want to see him, don't you?"

Those chocolate brown buttons were the size of saucepans.

"Of course you do. You're Poupon, for fuck's sake. You're probably the only person besides my editor whose read all of my books."

"No. I'm not-"

"Shut up."

These blood clots were leading up to a heart attack. The red syrup inside of her boiled up to her face, strawberry jam sticking to her skin. Hot. So it made her eyes water nervous and her lips dry to sand. The chick was shaking-little shakes, but Viral didn't miss a damn thing.

"_Stop worrying about offending me_. Have I not made it clear that I like you? It's aggravating."

Pretty red lips stood in place.

"Look-" Huff. "I don't know if I can pilot Enki. But I'll try. It's been a while…"

Poupon glanced out the window, like Viral had just broken all of her toes with his enormous foot and she was trying not to scream out in pain. She was hurting. And it was agony-to have someone so admired hate you because they liked you.

"Poupon! Knock it off! I shouldn't be able to make you this upset!"

She just looked at him.

"I'll take advantage of you!"

Nothing.

"Fight with me!"

"I don't want to fight with you!"

The whole place was dead, like all the colors faded to grey and white. The pleasant smell of coffee went to hand sanitizer and the clanking of ceramic cups and the grinding machines fell down to mute. No more words. Not a thing to bring back the colors and noise. It just stayed that way.

"I'm going to smoke a cigarette, alright?"

And Viral was there alone, looking at a once bitten bagel and a half empty bottle. Consciousness fell right down into knees. Not only had he broken one set of her toes, but two.

Fifteen minutes went by, ticked out second after second, the time between them coming like stilted hours, and she hadn't come back yet. Viral could see her, standing in front of the door, a little pile of ash and cigarette butts accumulating by her feet. This was worse than an argument. This was more like a one sided first fight he had won.

Now his knuckles hurt.

So Viral went outside and stuck that red haired chick in between his arms. Her surprise showed either of them, lighting that cold-cocked both of them right in the nose. But it got worse. Viral touched her cheek softly his lips, and her magma exploded onto his face too.

She blushed so furiously. She hid it inside his chest.

"Come back. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." Those fingers were digging themselves into his coat. One at his shoulder blade and the other at the base of his spine. There was his heart again, pounding between the butterflies she force fed him and the rouge she injected into his cheeks.

Then her shy mouth dug past the collar of his coat. His neck was the only place she could reach while still being discrete. Poupon couldn't embarrass him-with an imprint of her lips directly on his face. So she caught him under the jaw. She caught him right on the jugular.

Viral was holding her tightly.

Then they went back inside.

Soon after that the food was ready, and the order was picked up with a look of scrutiny and a couple of stupid smiles. On the way to the house, Poupon swallowed down a few orders of fries before they wrapped themselves in garbage bags and saran wrap and divided out the rations. Then they made an entire fucking mess of the backyard, consisting of wasted food and soggy fries mashed into the snow and grass.

And it was pretty goddamn fantastic.


	18. Chapter 18

Poupon's coat had been getting worse. Like someone took a baseball bat to it and belted it full of bruises and thread bare cuts. She had taken the time to patch it up, but the fabric Poupon used could have been older and more depraved than the coat itself. Now the poor thing looked homeless, but in the usually Poupon fashion she really didn't give a fuck. This was just the kind of shit she put up with every day-worn coats and broken dishes and glasses with chips.

But she looked happy.

She looked happy ever since Viral kissed her cheek. And part of her was more comfortable too. She stopped ringing out the bottom of her outer layer, and she didn't pick her nails and lips as much. The sound of her heartbeat actually remained inside her chest instead of slipping out of her scrunched up mouth.

Despite all that, Viral still had a violent physical reaction to the sight of that beaten black overcoat.

So one day, he came into her office, while she worked diligently at her desk, the bag full of the new, flaming pink coat behind his back, and snatched the piece of black cloth away from the floor. Poupon looked up from her mountain of small print. Nothing was said-her eyes just caught the sight before her. Viral standing there, looking over her garment, with some kind of bag held behind him.

But then, before a thing could be done to stop it, four extremely sharp claws tore from the collar of the coat down to the very bottom. Like a cat shredding up curtains. The fabric was in immediate pieces.

Poupon's jaw hung on the desk.

"Oh Poupon. What happened to your coat?" The beast man looked over his work, as though he had found it that way. Like the thing was shredded up on the ground. Then he tossed the department store bag onto her desk papers, leaving them to scatter into a cluster fuck.

The chick's jaw was still broken. It just hung there-stupid. Suddenly, Poupon didn't have a voice box. All she had was a yellow pile of confusion.

Viral pretended to surprised.

"Oh hey-what's that on your desk?"

Her hands stayed strapped to her knees. Like someone hot glued them into place. But her eyes still cussed him out-spitting out fire shaped like bad words. It was all mixed up with confusion, making a cocktail of inner turmoil.

Despite all that, Viral just waited, wearing a shit-eating grin. The only way the picture would have been more complete is if he pointed at her with both hands and winked. There was a semblance of a laugh there too-but Viral wouldn't let it past his razor sharp teeth. So it just traveled into his grin and cheek muscles and made him the stupidest he probably had looked in a while.

"Viral…"

He just remained in place.

"You have to stop this. I'm tickled pink to see you smile at me that way. But-" Lips fell into the vacuum her throat made, and she shuffled a bit inside her chair. "I can't accept this. You've been so generous to me and with every passing thing I just know I'll never be able to repay you."

"I don't want you to repay me."

"But I have to. What kind of douche bag just accepts gifts from someone and never even return the favor? I've met people like that before. They make me fucking sick." Her eyebrows collapsed like dead muscles and her gaze flicked across the room. Heavy. With all sorts of shit on her mind. "Why are you doing these things for me? I haven't earned them."

For a minute there, her lashes gathered at the beginning of an emotional breakdown. But Poupon swallowed it. She swallowed it about a thousand times. But then she grasped composure by the balls and stared down her favorite author.

"Don't think I'm not happy. I'm ecstatic. But I don't understand and I'm confused as shit-" Feeling came rolling back as a little tidal wave. "And being confused as shit puts me in this uneasy state of mind. Because I don't know what fucking up is to you."

The static tranquility stretched out between them, rolling up seconds and minutes and weeks. Inside it, Viral skimmed his lips. He stared Poupon down-that red headed chick that curled up inside his life. Like a cat sitting on his foot. Sleeping there and pretending to be a sock.

"I don't know why I'm doing these things. I don't really understand it either."

The soft tick tock from the clock on the wall. The soft sun light from the window. The soft pitter patter from his epileptic heart. The gears that made his mouth move and his brain work grinding to a halt.

"I think-"

Choke.

"I think seeing you happy makes me happy. I've done something good for someone-" But that wasn't all of it. That was the tip of an iceberg that was tall as a building. "But I actually know you." Not even scratching the surface. "You give a damn-"

"Of course." Chocolate went rolling to the floor. And it lingered a good moment before coming on back. "But you shouldn't shower me in gifts…I'm grateful for everything you've done for me. Really. It's an honor to have someone so awesome like me enough to do these kinds of things." It was coming. The word that lead head first into heart break.

But.

"But…" Mouth crinkled. "But you shouldn't let me take advantage of you either. Even if it's something you think you want."

"Poupon, I want you to-why don't you just take it? I picked it out for you-"

Those eyes were sweet as honey. All saccharine and glowing and shit, sunk around lashes like a doll's. None of it seemed fair. Even those goddamn droplets of cocoa and sugar and molasses mocked the hell out of him. Took pity and cut him down to a filthy animal. All these humans were the same.

Viral picked up the bag and left the room.

And Poupon knew what fucking up looked like.

She walked home that night, with the back of her coat shredded to shit. A visit wasn't taken into Viral's office. Not a request to be taken home-even though she had probably gotten accustomed to it. And the snow outside soaked every square inch of the ground. Viral watched her from the window. Like he used to.

This wasn't the usual misery. This ache was shaped different. Two narcotics of entirely separate colors. But somehow, it was worse than the normal. It was unfamiliar and sharp and didn't come with a side order of apathy. This shot came with full feeling and needles prickling into every pore. It came with bloodied organs and broken bones and morphine of boring immortality shot up into his arms.

So Viral tried to get back to work. Get back to life made up like death. Get back to being a government hooker and clear his head of the purple haze stuck between his ears.


	19. Chapter 19

He was drowning in the tub again. Six feet under soggy ground due to depression and too stupid to realize the water was freezing cold. Viral was numb anyway. A lifeless mound of flesh that served the purpose of a breathing carpet. But the inside of his skull was saturated. Going around in circles through the hurricane that was Friday night. How could that little bitch do that do him? Pierce him right through his heart and just go walking home without even looking at him? It was fucking insult. She kicked him like a goddamn dog and went running away like nothing happened.

The human race was a whore.

Then the door creaked softly open-because who else would arrive at a time like this? Who else but her? With her pale skin and tattoos and red hair and cat ears? Her pregnancy had flattened too- you can only be so pregnant after all.

"I can't see you right now."

But the cat woman just drew closer.

"I'm serious. I'll find a cliff to jump off of. You always make it worse. I was sobbing like a child before you even got here."

It was true. The tears had left tracks all over his cheeks-deep like welds. Those pretty golden eyes were swollen and sore; puffy and red and as inebriated as they could be.

"Why do you let me make it worse? You've got all the control in the world, Viral." Her knees were pressing into the bathroom tiles whiles she accosted him with a hot chocolate stare. "You know how I love you. I can't leave you this way."

His eyes squeezed together like someone poured lemon juice into them. And her fingers reached out and caught the pain dribbling all over his face. Her lips fastened to his cheeks and she brushed that golden mess out of his face.

"What happened to your child?"

"She was born about two weeks ago. Now she's sleeping." That soft palm settled at the frame of his face. Her mouth left a stamp beneath his eye. "What happened to you? Even when you're upset, you're not this upset."

But there wasn't an answer. What could he say without tearing himself to shreds? It was like looking for a gem in a ten story pile of broken glass. Viral got cuts just looking at it, even if the wounds did heal instantly.

"She didn't take the coat."

"So what?" Lips touched to lips.

"_So what?_ It's like a smack in the goddamn mouth! What's her problem-" The sorrow and the madness came up like a tidal wave that punched him in the throat. "_Why didn't she take it?_"

"Don't you understand?"

Viral sucked in a breath and she sucked in his ache.

"She doesn't want to take advantage of you. You're being silly and irrational, and she knows this. So, she doesn't just accept these things. It would unfair to steal gifts from a madman, don't you think?"

His ears were cupped in between her hands. Then she struck again-with soft love to his forehead.

"Are you upset with me?" They were looking right at one another.

"Of course not, Viral. I'm ecstatic for you. I only wish you wouldn't be so sad." Press. Press. Press. "Especially when your friend doesn't intend to be malicious. She cares greatly for you-even more so than herself. That's why willing to walk home in winter wearing a coat you tore to shreds. I'm sure she's worried that she broke your heart."

Viral didn't say a single word. He just allowed all of the cat woman's words to sink in. Slowly like honey through a sieve. But the honey filled the hole in his heart. Like cement poured into a creator.

"You shouldn't spend so much of your time like this." She kissed his cheek. "Especially when you have an abundance of it." Touch. "So I'm going to leave you now, Darling. I have to check on my child anyway."

Then their mouths came into contact and she disappeared. And the bathwater was so cold and the bathroom was so white. It was like a snow storm in a hospital bed. The whole it was just fucking awful. So Viral pulled the plug and wrapped himself in a towel, running far, far away from that wasteland of porcelain and ceramic tiles. It was too Goddamn ugly to look at for so long.


	20. Chapter 20

Poupon came in on Monday with the back of her coat sewn back together. She also carried with her a gift wrapped up in shiny red paper and a yellow bow wrapped around it. That was set politely on his desk when Poupon arrived inside his office. And the chick stood there-as though this was sacred ground to her unholy feet.

They both tried to speak at the same time, but Viral allowed her to go first.

"I thought about you a lot this weekend. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." Poupon chewed on the canker sores she had wore into the sides of her mouth. "I think it was rude for me not to accept the coat. It was so kind of you, but-" The wheel in her head was turning quick, with the nuts and bolts squeaking and shaking. "You had given me so much already; I'd feel like shit-taking any more from you, Sir. I'd feel like a real dick, because that sort of thing isn't nothing to me. And to take and take and take, like it was just granted. I couldn't play you that way."

"I know, Poupon."

The fire place fought with the clock for air space, cackling and ticks talking over one another. Despite that, it was peaceful-maybe even a nice day at the end of a bitter winter. The sunshine was coming in through the windows and that dusty old office looked a little less dusty and old.

"I thought about you this weekend too, and I know you didn't mean to hurt my feelings. But I do want you to take the coat." Viral shifted inside his chair a bit, gears cracking and squealing under a different pressure. "Maybe I'd take no for an answer, if I hadn't ripped your other coat to shreds. But that's the thing. I did rip it to shreds. So-to at least cover for my damage, you should take it." That enormous hand came down to take the gift from the desk.

"Is that really alright? I don't mind wearing this one. Besides it's kind of a collector item now, don't you think? How many people can say they've personally had their coats torn up by Viral? It's even rarer than a signed book from you."

"Well, collector's item or not, it's not practical." The claw connected to his thumb broke the cheap tape holding the package together, like a letter opener tearing through manila. This gift of hers was a ghetto sort of beautiful. It really couldn't be any better if she had used newspapers instead. Still-newspaper or not, it had a lot of charm. The front of it was practically stamped in loving approval. Made with care and adoration by Poupon. The news print seal of approval.

"Can I open this?"

"Well, you're halfway done. I'm not going to stand in your way."

So the shiny red paper was discarded to unveil a happy, rainbow colored scarf made out of yarn and hand-knitted by a certain tattooed chick. There were gaps everywhere-like holes in between yellowing teeth with blood red rotten gums. It seemed to bunch up and loosen unevenly too-the yarn. But still-it was probably one of the greatest gifts Viral had ever received. Fuck, any asshole can go down to local drug store now-a-days and pick up a scarf and a pair socks, rip off the price tag and call it a gift. Simon had even done it from time to time and that fucker lived underground and dug holes until he retired.

Poupon made this, and it probably took hours.

"I'm sorry I didn't have any other color of yarn. I know rainbows aren't very manly, but just one color would have been boring as hell."

"Are scarves supposed to be manly?" His finger blades smoothed over her handiwork, all those knots. "Thank you, Poupon."

"Of course." Her lips puckered into smile.

For a second, Viral smiled back to her, in his subdued way. His eyes were so gentle too; soft pools of gold. "Well, let me get the coat." So he rose from his desk chair and moved from room to room while Poupon stood and waited, face blotched and painted.

The bag had been shoved to the back of his wardrobe, when he was upset and wanted to forget the whole fiasco. The yellow plastic was roughed up some and crinkled, but the garment was alright. That was the most important thing.

And he came back.

Poupon took the gift with rainbow painted fingers and looked back to her boss with eyes the size of saucepans. There was greatness in her hands-something so goddamn awesome she almost couldn't look at it. A Pandora's Box filled with bad assery gorgeous. It was too much to handle. But she took the coat out, finding strength somewhere in the center of her chest.

The look on her face was one of astonishment. This mess of vibrant color was loud enough to burn anyone's eyes into blindness and goddamn, was it sweet. This coat had Poupon practically seared into its threads. The way a yakuza would be drenched in tattoos.

The old coat came off and the new one went, glorious and new and shining. Then that blazing secretary wrapped Viral in a hug and posted a shy kiss against his cheek.

"I can see why you were upset. It's fantastic."

"Well. It gets worse."

"It can't get worse." Her chin rested on his shoulder. "How can my mountain of debt to you get worse? That's fucking ridiculous."

"I know. But I'd like to fly Enki."

Those careful hands gripped at his shirt. Her heart was running at top speed and the breaks sent it smacking into a wall. This was a legitimate heart attack. If Poupon had been fat, she would have been dead.

So her voice squeaked out, "I get to come right?"

Her blood could have spilled out of her pores. It was boiling up to the surface, making arteries pop into fireworks. And now, Poupon was hiding inside his neck, because she couldn't bear to face him if the answer was 'no'.

Despite this, Viral didn't alleviate her pain. He was too busy keeping his mouth from slapping her on the forehead.

"Of course you're coming, you lunatic."

"Really?" Now her eyes were the size of bus tires. "I'm going to faint. Seriously. I can't even handle this right now. Look-I have to sit down." Poupon landed his desk chair, the whole of her lost within a fever. The chick wasn't kidding. Under the small breathes and the soaked up sight, she was freaking the fuck out. The first few buttons of her coat were even snapped open.

Viral laughed at her.

"What's wrong with you?"

"A lot of things-" Her lungs puffed into full capacity "When are we going?"

"Now."

"_Now?_"

"You can be unconscious in the car."

"The car?"

"We have to drive to where I'm keeping him." Those teeth jig sawed a smile. "Did you think Enki was _here?_"

"Well-yeah." Her shoulders relaxed just a bit, while her brows crumpled into angry little line. "I sort of thought you'd pull a candle out of place and a secret door would open up somewhere that lead underground. Like a comic book. You are a rich guy with lots of cool toys. The secret tunnel that leads to the giant robot is sort of a given, isn't it?"

"The real world doesn't usually work that way."

"It could if you wanted it to." Poupon managed to stand up, wobbling on shaking knees. She looked spectacular in that bright orange eye sore-A brilliant ray coming on down from the sun. And she brushed herself off, with her face radiating a couple shades of neon pink.

They were opposite sides of strong magnets, at that point. But they stood in place, shy and awkward. Poupon was dripping in her flaming pink admiration, with dumb lips injected with desire. She was too good, though. To leave Viral's face a canvas of her lips stain blots. Fuck being too good-Poupon just didn't have the balls.

And somehow, neither did Viral. Probably because he'd kill her.

The two went into the garage and hopped right into that shiny silver sports car that would lead to that shiny silver Enki, taking their places and shutting their mouths and pulling into the street. As far as winter went, today was a gorgeous day. The clouds formed into their own little cliques and let pretty rays of sunshine rain down to the streets. Some of them ran like wet paint, all grey and heavy and sad. They got into shouting matches with the blue sky set behind them, yelling with thunder and roaring with lighting-but just in certain places. The rest of the sky behaved and even smiled, silver lining glowing like golden flowers in a deep green field.

The buildings reflected all of that too, like clear ocean water.

But either of them was too distracted to give a shit. Poupon was preoccupied, working at her lips and trying to get her face to deflate and putting a stop to her heart, which kicked in her ribcage and dropped into her stomach acid. She was all kinds of sick.

And Viral tried to hide it, but his core was sending fractures into his bones too. No one had actually sat with him while he piloted.

There was no avoiding it.

It was heroic and romantic. Like Simon and Nia sitting in the cockpit of Gurren Lagann all those years ago. While they punched holes in the universe and gave this Poupon girl the right to exist. Before she was even born.

The memories were tearing holes in his brain.

Between the glory days and the screaming desire to reach over and crush Poupon's tiny hand inside his own, the beast man was losing his goddamn mind. But somehow, he kept his eyes on the road, like a monk going back to the holy book after being tempted by lust. But God couldn't even help him. God is for beings with actual life spans, who have to worry about death and sin and eternity, whatever it fades into. Viral just went on forever. Like soil or air.

The needles in his center sank in deeper.

"I'm almost a century old…"

Poupon looked over in sympathy. She gave a little grin too, sweet like sugar. Popping diabetes into his blood.

"Come on." Those doe eyes blinked. "Who really gives a shit? Baby Face." The edges of her lips rolled into her cheeks. "Don't worry about all that. I'd still like you if you were five centuries old. And everyone else can go fuck themselves, right?"

"Right."

"Then what are you so worried about?" She plucked out a cigarette from her pants pocket. "Don't you know? You're too cute to be troubled."

Oh, the things Viral _could_ have said. He could have questioned the word 'cute' or he could have thanked her for always patching up the cracks in his chest, or he could have called her cute back. But Viral didn't do any of those things, because all of the choices to this multiple choice question would have ruined the moment. Stomped all over it with cleats and left it a bloody puddle of meat and bones.

They were damn close to this storage unit of sorts anyway.

Viral parked the car and they both got out.

The whole space was a cross between a military base and a mess of metal sheds. There were people running around in fancy uniforms, walking fast like they had somewhere important to be, holding keys inside their gloved hands. On one side, from what they could see in the parking lot- were storage units. And on the other side, a tall, shiny building.

"You know, they don't let you keep giant robots-just around. You have to store them somewhere, as collector's items. Unless you work for the military." Viral and Poupon began walking forward, past the wide open red gates. "I'm not even sure if this is legal. But you're probably right. As long as you're not in the city, no one really gives a damn. I think this still counts as a hobby."

"It does. There are people who collect them." Their feet clicked against the asphalt. "I was reading a while ago that someone actually wanted to buy Enki. That he was willing to pay at least two million for him."

Viral looked at her.

"He struck me as a douche bag. Did you hear anything about that?"

"No…"

"Oh. Well, it was on the news a couple years ago."

"I don't really watch the news."

"I know." Poupon's lips popped. She was still jittering a bit. Like a teapot set onto a rickety table. "Can I uh-" Pop. "Is it cool if I hold your hand?"

"I'm nervous too."

"How can you be nervous? You've done this before."

Viral placed her little hand into his enormous one. And he held it like a trinket, because it was small and soft and fragile. Poupon's fingers were nice-all long and slender, even if her nails were covered in cracking rainbow paint. His thumb ran over her knuckles. Those were pleasant too, in the way knuckles could be pleasant. Putting into words wouldn't make a lick of sense.

"It's been a while, since I've even seen Enki. I'm not sure-" His fingers tightened around her hand a minute. "Just promise me you won't be too disappointed if he doesn't work."

"Well, inevitably, I'll be a little disappointed, but I won't be upset. We're all just doing our best. I'll probably faint at the sight of him anyway-" And her hand tightened inside his. "Look, you're not allowed to freak out. Because if you start to freak out, how badly do you think I'll freak out?"

"You can't freak out either."

"Why?"

"Because, your freaking out freaks me out."

"But how can you freak out? You're so cool."

"Poupon, I'm not cool."

"Shut the fuck up. You're awesome."

"Poupon-"

"Viral. Shut the fuck up."

"You shut the fuck up."

She smiled like a dumbass. "I'm not going to shut the fuck up. Fuck you."

"Fuck you."

"Well, fuck you."

Hey were still holding hands.

He kissed her on the cheek. "Fuck you."

Then they were approached by one of the men in uniforms. Fresh white fabric and shiny black shoes.

"I'm here to see my robot. I'm in number 278."

"Of course, sir. Right this way."

All three of them went down the line from 202 to 232, and as they went down the units got bigger and bigger. They looked like little metal houses made of steel, clean and reflecting the sun. Put together by enormous bolts drilled into sheets-to hold the whole thing together. At number 250, those little steel houses were surrounded by the big iron gates, because this was where the rich people put their expensive shit. The place looked difficult to rob in the first place, like a fortress with cameras and tiny watch towers and plenty of people to keep guard at all hours of the day. But these were even more intimidating-with key pads for access codes and the whole deal.

Poupon looked at every one of them. Maybe they were all filled up with robots too. With relics of another time. With all the most valuable things-like ancient automobiles and a thousand different pairs of imitation Kamina shades.

Then there was 278.

The units stacked up to 300, the 1st being the smallest and the 300th being the largest.

Poupon's heart yelled loudly. It deafened out the sound. She couldn't hear the punching of those glowing keys. The gates opening. The sound of their feet clicking on forward. It was all just a huge buzz. And the pounding of Viral's heart to accompany hers.

Now they were connected at the veins-for this moment anyway. His heart beat belonged to her and her heartbeat belonged to him. It had been so damn long, but this was supposed to happen. The bond between this beast man and this robot and this chick.

And they came into that steel house, and the light turned on and they gripped at each other's hands.

There he was-Enki. That enormous, beautiful robot standing stories tall, all shined up and polished. Unused. And either of them stood there with their jaws dropping, Poupon more so than Viral. This was something she had only read about. Not something she would ever see. So was it all real? Or just some sick ass dream she was having again? Would she wake up in her shabby apartment in her shabby room in her shabby bed, with no Viral and no Enki, still working in that shitty office for shitty pay?

The lump gathered inside her throat. Bunching up like fabric inside a broken sewing machine. Her eyes were burning, but she didn't cry. It wasn't the time to make that sort of mess.

Viral opened the roof, with a switch that sat on the wall, and the both of them climbed inside Enki's mouth. It was strange too-to see Viral dressed in such formal clothes. The elderly pictures always featured him in an outfit half torn up or some sort of heroic garb. Not rich boy business clothes. But there they were.

Those enormous claws took hold of the controls, and somehow, that huge machine snapped right back to life. Poupon watched in the meantime, standing at the side of the pilot's seat, gripping onto the sides of the chair.

"Are you ready?"

The chick just gave a nod, and they were off. All three of them came shooting out of the roof like a crazy-ass firework, bulleting through the air and into the empty landscape beyond the city limits. In brief flashes, you could see people on the ground looking up and pointing before turning into specks on a large map, before they were submerged into clouds and stabilized. Poupon held on tight, still. And so was Viral. Both of them were dead silent and too amazed to speak. They couldn't hear one another anyway. Heartbeats took over eardrums, pounding away like a musician in perfect time.

All of the sights were so breath taking too.

The clouds and the overview of the ground. The random vegetation and all the cracks leading everywhere-like tree roots and veins. The sky was whole too. Without those enormous sky scrapers and smog to mar it like a blemish. Out here-this is what it looked like before the cities and the entitlement and before everyone knew how to read. There were even a few little villages, dropped on the earth like ant hills, where some people chose to live underground.

It was overwhelming.

Viral heard a sniffle behind him, when Poupon sucked in her breath and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. All of those images were blurred, a painting soaked up in water so the colors ran into each other.

"It's beautiful."

Viral didn't say a word.

"Thank you."

"Of course, Poupon."


	21. Chapter 21

The next day came and Viral was lost in a mess of hot water and confusion. For the first time in an eternity, his whole body had feeling running through it. His legs and arms and stomach-Viral was aware of all of them. The feeling became so much worse when Poupon got shot up into his head. She made his heart ache horribly.

Now he could relate-when she said she had no clue how to act around him. How she worried about doing something totally fucking stupid. How he could turn her face red.

Viral was sick. This was awful.

His face was red too, pale skin soaked up in bright pink. The color of smeared strawberries. This whole goddamn house was empty without her inside it. Poupon didn't take up much space, but she made all those boring rooms interesting. Like a spike of vodka inside a punchbowl. Her office wasn't as happy either-without her sitting inside her humungous desk chair. The colors weren't vibrant and those books on the shelf just seemed beaten. Not loved or revered like they actually were, but beaten to a pulp.

And it was stupid. It was so fucking stupid because Poupon was coming soon. Either that or maybe he could still pick her up. There weren't any clocks in this bathroom, but Viral was late. He just couldn't move. His limbs felt heavy and fragile-just these huge hunks of stone that couldn't do shit.

But wouldn't you know it? The door opened rapidly and closed rapidly-a flash of red and pink and orange in between.

"I'm sorry, Viral." Her voice came in from outside. "I didn't know this was a bathroom. I was just looking for you…"

"It's alright, Poupon. You can come in."

Viral could _hear_ her face flush. "Are you sure that's alright?"

"Yes. It's alright."

So the door creaked open softly, and her worn out boots clicked sweet on the tiles. Those big, flashy dollish eyes hid behind her hands, with outstanding red blotches right beneath them. Somehow, she walked forward to be close enough to that blond beast man of hers, and sat down.

"I don't care if you see me."

"I know. But if you did let me look I couldn't stay focused on your face." She moved her hands, but those eyes were lidded, covered in cat's eye and champagne pink powder. "You were on the news this morning. And people are wondering who that red headed chick is, you're seen in public with from time to time." Those lips curled up a bit. "With the tattoos and obnoxious make-up."

"Is that what they said about you?"

"No. But that was what they were alluding to." Her head leaned against the wall. "I'm not upset. When you have famous friends, you tend to be famous too. At least infamous. It's like a disease. And you know-" She removed a cigarette from her pocket. "If they want to waste their time showing ridiculous pictures of me on the news-like the evidence for the Sasquatch, then they can just go for it." The roll was lit, and Poupon inhaled heavily. "That's nothing, though. What's on your mind?"

Viral took a long pause, fumbling for words he probably couldn't pronounce. "I don't know-" Then he sighed, like the air leaking from a balloon. "I miss you when you're not here. Even though I just saw you yesterday. I hate weekends."

Poupon didn't say anything. Her mouth just worked into itself, like a black hole. She had to over analyze what he was saying to her, because she was a chick and that's just what chicks did, even though it would provide the same answer if it was taken at face value.

"Life sucks when you're not here. You're nicer than the voices in my head."

Poupon sucked down the smoke and spit it back up.

"Yeah. Life does suck when I'm not here…This is my favorite place to be." Puff, and the silence came rolling back in. And the light was too bright. Poupon nearly opened her eyes because now they were starting to burn. "You're a lot nicer than the voices in my head too."

The ashes were flicked onto her hand, out of respect for Viral's floor. They burned, like hot candle wax, but Poupon didn't flinch.

"Can I kiss you?"

Puff. "You don't usually ask."

"I'm naked this time."

Poupon moved those enormous lashes apart to catch a glimpse of Viral, only to close them in a lighting flash. Her entirety was saturated in red, like someone dipped her in cherry paint-the same color of her hair. And without permission, those big wet claws caught the sides of her face. Lips touching just next to her mouth, due to that pesky little cigarette. So Poupon removed it, and she exhaled the smoke and she clipped their lips together. It all just clicked too, fields of sunflowers blooming inside either of their stomachs. Poupon's hands were made for Viral's shoulders. They fit against his face too, gently rounding his ears. And her mouth was warm, like a little pot full of sweet honey and fire.

"I want to do horrible things to you." She whispered it between shared breathes and aggressive kisses.

Viral started to unbutton her coat, and their tongues folded together, slipping past one another and fighting with some angry kind of passion. Viral was careful not to bite her. Not to hurt her in general. But Poupon didn't seem to mind those teeth and claws one bit. Her beaten nails dug themselves deep into Viral's mess of sopping wet gold while she helped get that hot-as-fuck coat off.

"I want you to do horrible things to me too."

The rest of her attire peeled off. That lacey pink tank top landing in a sink somewhere and those sweet leggings getting torn to pieces as either of them struggled to free her legs.

Now Viral could see all of her tattoos. They covered her body like scars covered his. Messages in different languages along her ribcage. The design of a cherry tree, playing out along her back. A pair of Kamina shades at her hip.

The bath water drained off, because it was cold and dirty and Poupon was welcomed in, just as she tossed away her undergarments. And their mouths slapped together again. Like a seat belt to a buckle.

It had been a long time for either of them. You could tell by the sheer desperation they cried into one another's flesh. Their love was stuffed full of need and passion and violence. They tugged at hair, scratched shoulders. Pushed tongues together like a fist fight and left bruises wherever they could. And Poupon cried so loudly, gripping the edges of the tub with her back arched and her lips wide. Viral went mad-listening to her beg and wail out his name, having her wrap those thin legs around him while she tugged him in close.

And when they were done in the bathroom, Viral took Poupon to his bedroom, where he pressed her against the bed and against the wall and against his body, soaking her in kisses and allowing her to do all of those horrible things.

They made love four times before that poor red headed chick was unconscious. So Viral wrapped his arms around her and stitched kisses onto her neck. His whole body was warm-like it had a certain glow to it. For the first time in a long time, the sorrow that hung over his head like a raincloud dissipated, and the sun went on shining like nothing ever blocked it in the first place.

No, they weren't getting anything done. They hadn't gotten much done in the last few weeks. But Viral didn't give a fuck and neither did Poupon.


	22. Chapter 22

"Simon is dead."

Rossiu had called the very next morning. Viral answered the phone wearing his beaten blue bathrobe and Poupon's love. She was still naked in his bed, curled up in the sheets and sleeping like a tattooed angel, with her red hair all fucked up and her make-up smeared.

Viral had let the phone ring three times before he left her. And she bitched at him when he got up, a little wine while her arms tugged him in. But he kissed her temple and promised he would be back, so she let him go.

"What?"

"He passed away last night. His nurse called me at about midnight. The funeral is going to be on Friday…" The tone of Rossiu's voice was more upset than he had ever let it become. Maybe he was even on the verge of tears. It was hard to say, due to the static. "You're supposed to give a speech, along with the rest of us."

Viral stayed entirely silent.

"It's at two o'clock in Kamina Park. I thought that would be appropriate."

"It is appropriate."

"Yes-well…" Then there was a huge pause and something of a gasp. "Thanks, Viral." The sound of a dial tone came into his ear. And the beast man came back to his bed, where that sweet little human chick wrapped her arms around him.

"Simon is dead."

"What?" They looked right at one another.

His whole body was limp. Numb and stupid and totally unresponsive. It felt like a corpse, but that didn't stop Poupon from bringing it back to life-or at least trying. Her arms crushed his ribcage as hard as they could while her mouth dug deep into his neck. Shoving kisses into his flesh.

"I'm so sorry."

Viral couldn't do shit. He just sat there and accepted each one of her smeared kisses. They were like miniature electrocutions. It brought the feeling back somehow. And Poupon didn't quit. It made her physically ill to see her boss this way. His expression-so goddamn heartbroken and sad punched her right in the gut and sent last night's sushi plummeting out of her mouth.

"Viral, please say something."

"I-" But he couldn't really say anything. "You have to come with me."

"I'll do whatever you want me to do." She practically bit him. "Really. Whatever it takes."

It came out slow. "Thanks." Like retardation.

Friday came frozen. Days dripped into candle wax, with hours that were long and tortuous. Viral was like that too-a corpse that just sat at his desk chair and drooled all over his papers. With his chin inside his hand and his eyes burning up in the fireplace. Poupon was there. To be the only who actually moved in real time. She organized the papers and stamped shit and brought it to her boss with a kiss on the cheek. He asked her not to leave, so she stayed. Sleeping in his bed while he curled up around her. It was like painkillers for a third degree burn. The wounds still ached and bled, but it felt better, with her there. To clean him up and make some of it go away.

On Friday, they dressed nicely and went to the funeral.

The place was crowded, with civilians standing outside the perimeters the police had set up, and plenty of people who were actually invited, taking up the inside of Kamina Park. The chairs were placed near that enormous statue of Kamina himself, as well as a podium where all the important people would stand and give their eulogies.

The moment Viral and Poupon stepped out of their car a thousand flashing lights went off, blinding out the sun and making it difficult to even walk in a straight line. Voices yelled around them, but the two just joined hands and hurried through the crowd. The chick was nervous. Her little hand shook inside Viral's, because this was her first taste of fame. This was her first run in with that horrible paparazzi, calling out the worst of questions.

But they made it in, only to get stared at by the grandchildren of legends, who were just as curious, but not as rude. Young women with bright red hair and full chests. Children with serious eyes and large foreheads. All dressed in black. And all of the people who ever knew Simon. Except Poupon, who was just lucky enough to know someone. They all whispered about her, means eyes flickering to her and Viral as they took their seats in the front row. They all stood in those groups and kept their voices low.

Poupon still acted like a lady, even if everyone said she didn't look like one. Her whole concern was the blond at her side, who gripped her hand and spoke quiet little words to her. He thanked her for being here, because anyone with a half a brain could have expected this. They were being broadcast live at that very moment. Helicopters with cameras hovered over their heads while news anchors made commentary.

No one quite knows who this red haired woman is yet…

It seems that Viral brought his Lady friend everyone seems to be talking about…

Recent reports say that this woman is Poupon DeGrey, Viral's newest secretary and apparently close friend. The two have been seen together in public quite a few times from Sushi restaurants to cafés…

The whole of Kamina City and maybe even the world was undressing her from their TV screen. But Poupon sat, as she would at any other funeral, there to support her darling idol, because he needed her. So she wore the bruises he had given her proudly. There was no other way to wear them.

Rossiu made an announcement, welcoming everyone who had come out that day, and gave an introduction in the form of a eulogy. The whole place had gone silent, even the crowd beyond the barriers, holding their children up on their shoulders and shuffling politely on their feet.

Then it was Viral's turn. He was announced and all the cameras shot to where he sat. Poupon was left with a kiss on her cheek, as though no one was watching them at all. And he came to the podium and adjusted the microphone, giving a long pause before he began.

It wasn't the first time he had done this. From the countless interviews and press conferences and decades of being famous, there really wasn't much nervousness to be had, even in the face of all his fans and critics.

He began to speak and the whole audience became quieter.

"It's difficult to begin a eulogy like this, because when it comes to Simon the Digger, there's almost too much to say." Viral's sight caught the corpse for a moment-his greatest friend resting in peace inside a whole sea of white roses, layered in a dark brown casket. "Especially when you knew him as well as I did. Without him, we wouldn't have this city, or comfortable lives we all live. We might not even be alive today…" The beast man sucked in a breath. "So to call this a grave loss would be a gross understatement. Today, we are seeing off one of the finest men who ever lived."

Viral glanced out into the crowd, to all the teary eyes and swollen faces. Poupon's make up was beginning to smear a bit too.

"And it's a damn shame this had to happen, because no matter how old Simon lived to be, it would have been too young." A pause. "Thank you."

Then Viral sat back down and the speeches went on, until everyone had spoken who needed to speak. And when all the eulogies were over, respects were paid to that peaceful body, laying inside that bed of flowers. Teary-eyed farewells and side-long stares. Viral simply allowed his companion the white rose they had given him, with Poupon's hand clutched inside his fist.

"Thank you, Simon."

That was all he had to say.

The two carried on, with mildly sick stomachs and numb foreheads. The sun was shining, but today was bleak and grey and black, like a bruise photographed in black and white. But Poupon was there, with her fire red scalp to put a droplet of color onto this raincloud canvas.

Viral took her to her home at the end of the day. He had been draining her color a little too long anyway.


	23. Chapter 23

Two weeks passed and things hadn't improved. Viral still wore his broken heart on his sleeve and Poupon did her very best. On her breaks, she would make him breakfast and dinner, ranging from macaroni and cheese to hot noodle soup. The concern in her face never really let up either. Poupon was practically sick with worry, just as Viral was practically sick with sorrow. Her eyes constantly held suitcases beneath them, but she managed to stay pleasant. Rich in her scent of perfume and cigarettes with tired eyes freshly done in shadow and liner.

And Viral admired her. Just about every night, you could find Poupon tied up inside two strong arms, sitting under a heavy and hot rain of hungry lips. It was a distraction from the lack of dreams and the memory of that man with the determined blue eyes. Simon refused to leave him alone.

One morning Poupon got up to find her beast man sitting at his desk, face leaning into his hand. His heart was broken into a thousand pieces, scattered inside his gaze. And she came up and cold cocked him right in the nose.

Viral fell out of his chair.

"Grit your goddamn teeth, Viral!"

The blond thing stood back up, with a trace amount of blood lacing his hand. The wound healed up in no time-as it always did. But Viral was too damn puzzled to pay a lick of attention to his almost broken nose. Poupon looked horrendously distraught-like her boss just killer her cat or took her arm and snapped it clean in two. It was an expression brimming in upset and pain.

"What's the matter with you? Yell at me for punching you square in the face! You're not supposed to be this way-" She sucked in a breath, and her lungs and heart burned up between the spitting flames in her stomach and the ash-hot tears boiling inside her lashes. "Don't you get it? This isn't you! The Viral I read about didn't sit around and mope-and if he did, it wasn't for this long!"

She took in air and she took in air again. All while the calm office clock whispered to the fireplace in measured and calculated noise. But that version of silence-that was just gasoline to the sparks.

"You should be yelling at me! You're ruining everything! Get angry!" She knocked a pile of his papers right into the floor. "Hit me back!"

But viral just stood still, with plenty of composure, and captured her wrists. And they stared at one another, those circlets of gold so lifeless and dead. The discord boiled onto her cheeks.

"I can't see you this way. You're killing me." Those muscles twisted her face into something unpleasant. "You know-your book got me through college. Reading it, I knew I could do anything. At least, I could get some kind of stupid degree. So you can't be like this. It hurts too fucking much, to see you this way all the time-" A gasp and the scent of her tears came right to his senses. "I love you. And I don't even give a shit if you love me back. I just don't want to watch you like this. It makes me miserable, when you're so sad. I wish you were happy."

Poupon was reaching right into his chest and tearing like a harpy at his heart strings. So he let her wrists go and she dug her face inside her hands. Into her heart lines.

This was his fault. So his gut drowned in bile and his throat sank a knot. But he grabbed her by the arm and tugged her in close, so maybe a bit of the hysteria would wash away in the day-old mascara tears that landed onto his white blouse.

She pulled away when the calm came when the speaking of the clock and the fire place shoved their way into the foreground and bleached out her anguish.

"Look-I just have to selfish for a while. I'm going home to get my head together, and I'll be back in a few days. Please don't fire me, because I'm returning. Unless you really do want me gone. I did just punch you in the face."

The madness came dripping on the back of her hand, and she tried to go away, but Viral caught her wrist again, stupid. The words were bunching up. Ebbing like rust across an old gate. There were too many to say all at once, so he was left moving through action. Viral would go mad, if Poupon left him. That goddamn illness would spread like wild fire. And he hoped-he fucking prayed that this was apparent in the way he gripped her wrist. Her hand was practically white, he was grasping so hard.

"Let go of me!" The other set of fingers tried to pry him off, but they were just no match. It wouldn't even matter if the chick had a crowbar. "_Let go!_"

But her voice was strong enough so Viral set her free, standing there like a dumb kid that just wet his pants. The embarrassment was strewn everywhere in his visage, like the bits of a broken porcelain vase. And there was almost a scream-for her to get her bitch ass back there, but he had been selfish enough. Now, it was her turn and it was wrong to steal that from her.

So the beast man set himself back at his desk, not even bothering with the documents Poupon had knocked over, wallowing in a new ache. Now he had lost two dear friends and the weight was like an anvil poised into his chest. But no one was there now, with lever and pulley to get the damn thing off of him. Viral was stranded, but in a way, he almost deserved to be.


	24. Chapter 24

Hey. It's Viral. I know you told me to leave you alone, but it's been two days and I'm worried about you. I'd just like to talk. I'm not going to fire you. Please call me back.

Poupon, it would be really nice if you'd answer your phone. I know I've been calling a lot recently, and it's probably extremely irritating, but I'd stop if you'd just pick up. Thank you. Please call me.

It's been three days now. Where are you? I'm frustrated and worried. Call me. Please.

Am I just not saying the right thing? The phone is plugged in. It rings about five times before I get your voicemail, so you haven't thrown it out the window yet. Look-I've been checking my phone about once every ten minutes, just in case I missed something. Whenever someone calls me, I freak out, and I'm always met with disappointment because it's not you. _Please_. Just call me.

I'm getting pissed off, but I want you to know that I love you too. Call me back.

But Poupon didn't call. The other end of the line stayed totally silent save for the irritating rings that laced Viral's day. It came to the point where he would pace around the mansion, phone in his hand and stare out of the window, searching for the haired baby doll that stuffed so much insanity between his ears. It was like he lost her-but how could that be when she sat on his shoulder and laughed right into his eardrum? This was fucking abuse.

By the fifth day, he had no choice but to go down there. So, he shoved himself inside his sports car, heart thumping out a rhythm while his veins ran dry. The feeling was horrible. Viral was hardly in control any longer, torn between logic and whimsical emotion that crunched him up like an accordion.

Poupon would come back, if he just waited. If Viral could just muster the patience. But it was impossible. Now, that goddamn chick with her goddamn fire red hair and her goddamn tattoos had left him with anger and an open ended 'I love you'. This was like an enormous cliffhanger at the ending of a book. He could have just broken the spine and thrown the fucking thing right into the fire. Unresolved issues made him sick. Ever second was like a day, ticking by slow.

So he drove through the city, with his heart leaping and thumping and his skin bunching into goose-bumps. There was a grand upset, because she lived so far away, and the lights were relentless. Everywhere, an ugly red light laughing in his face. But somehow, he kept getting closer, edging forward through asphalt and crossing pedestrians and yellow lights he ran. It was a busy day in Kamina City, but then-just about every day was busy.

And suddenly, he saw her on the street. On the sidewalk with her purse in hand, wearing that new coat. Viral wasn't hallucinating either. It was her, with her doll face and long lashes, and pale, pale skin. Poupon was staring right back at him too.

Then he found the nose of his car slammed into someone else's bumper. The airbag deployed and popped him right in the mouth while the smell of smoke and gunpowder drained into the car.

It was the second time this week he'd been hit in the face. His nose was bleeding, again. And when he got out of the front seat, there she was, running toward him. And there the other driver was, causing a commotion. All of Viral's attention, however, was fed directly to that fire haired woman that jacked his heart and ran away.

"Are you alright?" She stopped before him all out of breath.

"Where have you been? I called you about a thousand times. Did you even check your goddamn phone?" His tone was short and angry, but that chick just stood there and took it. "_I've been worried fucking sick!_ And look at what you made me do!"

"I'm sorry, Viral." For a second, Poupon's hand went dipping into her purse to pull out a tissue, taking up the blood from underneath her darling's nose. "I was just coming to see you. I wish you hadn't crashed your car, but…Well. I'm glad you're here away."

The two were drawing quite a crowd, because everyone recognized the beast man and his red haired assistant. People gathered around them in a circle, whispering and staring onwards in silence-this was like a movie. The other driver even stopped his yelling and watched as Viral and that little girlfriend of his stood across from one another and spoke.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you back. I wanted to talk to you in person, but I wasn't calm enough yet. And whatever conversation we were going to have-I knew it was going to be too heavy to have over the phone. That's not fair to you. And while this whole scene is pretty overdramatic, with the crowd and the car accident…" Poupon motioned to everyone else standing around them. "I still think it's better we talk face to face."

Viral let out a puff of air and Poupon sucked in her bottom lip.

"Well. You're right. I wanted to talk to you in person too." The flash of a camera went off, but Viral didn't break his attention. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for pissing you off so bad. You've been really loyal, and I know I can be a total pain in the ass." The beast man took a second to breathe, because his lungs hurt. They were empty and his forehead was delusional hot. "Look I'm not going to fire you. I just want you to come back. I'm going to try and mope less too. Because you're right. I'm being fucking ridiculous."

"I was frustrated when I said that stuff. You didn't deserve that-to get hell from me. And I'm sorry I punched you." They were staring each other down as sweetly as possible. Like cutting one another lovingly or some shit. "You've got every right to mourn for your friend. You guys were close. And I know I couldn't get over something like that in two weeks. And it's stupid to expect anyone else to."

Those rainbow colored nails rung out the bottom of her new coat.

"I was just so heartbroken, to see _you_ heartbroken. It's like I said; I just wanted you to be happy, even if that's unrealistic, considering the circumstances. So I'm sorry-and don't go thinking that I'm making excuses, because I'm not. I really should have been more understanding."

A few seconds passed, where either of them didn't say a damn thing and flashes went off around them while the rest of the crowd held up their cell phones.

"I meant it when I said I loved you, you know. So I'm still willing to be there for you. I just needed some time to sort through my own head. Can I come back?"

"Poupon, I wanted you to come back the moment you left."

There was a collective aww from the people standing around them.

"Life sucks, when you're not hanging around. So for the love of God, just come back already."

It was at that moment that the fire-haired chick sank Viral in between her arms and kissed him silly on the cheek. And he kissed her back until their mouths were together and everyone was losing their minds. They would be in the news, and people would be happy for them and people would talk trash. Some would even point fingers and call their relationship disgusting, but neither of them really gave a fuck. Because they were happy and this was a good thing. After all, Viral could always get the finest of umbrellas if anyone tried to piss on his parade.

The car accident was taken care of. They exchanged information and phone numbers while Poupon waited around politely, attached to Viral's hand. And then they walked home-to that not so lonesome mansion to sit inside old lawn chairs and talk shit. They'd probably have some pretty kick ass make-up sex too.


	25. Epilogue

"Hey Poupon."

"Hey what?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Baby."

They were standing outside, throwing nine irons into porcelain vases. It was a cool, spring time morning, and a little bit of snow still sat on the ground. Viral was dressed up inside that beaten blue bathrobe, and Poupon in the same garb, but happy pink and new.

Shit was going well.

Sure, the word Simon still had a sting to it, and the two of them never seemed to leave the public eye. But there was happiness that hadn't been there before. The whole of the mansion seemed brighter, like the sun sat in the center of it, pushing out all the dust and pickled sorrow for something shiny and glad. More of the rooms were irresponsible. One had an indoor pool and another held a bowling alley, and Viral could usually find Poupon in his bed too, which was just about as irresponsible as it got.

They were happy together, with high hopes for a future full of children and love. Maybe it was impossible. But fuck impossible. Viral and Poupon were always doing things they weren't supposed to do. Either of them was willing to knock down those hideous road blocks with their big, pink bulldozer.

Spring was coming and it was bright.

"Hey Viral."

"Hey what?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."


End file.
